His father’s enemy would come to take Dunkirk as his father had always warned he would. It was the silence of a cathedral and it made him want to weep. Other sounds came to him then, untarnished by the smashing of pottery or the thud of a fist against his ear: the whisper of the swallows in the rafters, the rustle of a pine, the blurred hum of the wind across the moor. It was as if all the bells in the world had stopped ringing at once, leaving only their echoes hanging in the air. Sebastian brushed a dirty hank of hair from his brow, and his gaze flicked upward to the carved rafters of the hall. Just a slump and a thump and he was gone. How had he gone so quietly? Sebastian had always imagined him going out in a bellowing, raging frenzy, the livid veins in his temple pulsing to a final snap. Sebastian dared to poke him harder, digging his bare toe into the fleshy abdomen. Ale trickled from the corner of his mouth. Sebastian nudged him with his foot, waiting for the callused paw to reach out and jerk his thin leg out from under him, bracing himself for a roar of laughter.
Preview of A Kiss to Remember Prologue Scotland, The Highlands 1773
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