Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Laird
·
Stormy
Night, 2016
·
Released
30 December 2016
·
Historical
erotic romance, Highland romance
·
Approximately 73,000 words
·
HEA
ending
#eroticromance
#ashebarker #discipline #dominance #spanking #Scottishromance #Highlanders
#historicalromance #meninkilts
Blurb
After her half-brother attacks the kinsmen of Blair
McGregor, Lady Roselyn of Etal is brought before the stern highland laird to
answer for her reluctant, unwitting role in the crime. Once she has told her
story, she throws herself at his mercy.
Blair soon realizes that Roselyn is as much a victim
of her half-brother as anyone, but his people’s demands for justice cannot be
ignored entirely, so he strips the young Englishwoman bare and chastises her
firmly with a switch applied to her naked backside.
The painful, humiliating punishment both assuages Roselyn’s
guilt and leaves her yearning to be even more thoroughly mastered by the
handsome laird. Though Blair makes it clear that she is free to return home,
she instead chooses to remain with the him in his castle… and in his bed. Their
passion soon blossoms into romance, but can the highlander protect his
beautiful Sassenach when the villain who caused them both so much pain tries to
tear her away from him?
Publisher’s Note: The Laird and the Sassenach includes
spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy
this book.
Blog post Introduction
The Laird and the Sassenach is a story of a man with justice to mete out, and a
dilemma to face. Sometimes the truth seems to stare us in the face, at other
times it may be not so clear where the blame lies. In the middle ages, of
course, matters of crime and punishment, guilt or innocence were simple enough.
The social hierarchies of the time placed authority and power in few hands and
there were no qualifications required which entitled the privileged to rule.
They were just handed the job and the common folk had to hope their leaders
would turn out to be wise and fair. Sometimes they got lucky, and The Laird and the Sassenach is a story
of one such instance.
I love
to write historical stories. I am especially drawn to Highland fantasies, and
why not? Who can resist the soaring Scottish scenery and sexy men in kilts. I
find myself fascinated by that heady cocktail of honour and lawlessness, the
atmospheric sensuality of the time and the way an all-powerful laird will
reveal his soft centre just when it matters. But the Sassenach in the story
also has her little quirks and faces some unique challenges. And look out for
an unlikely star of the show. Freya the wolfhound has her part to play and I
absolutely adored her.
I hope readers enjoy The Laird and the Sassenach as much as I loved writing it
Excerpt (18+)
“Will you beat me again?”
“Aye, if you deserve it. For disobedience or
disrespect. I am master here and that will apply to all. But you would not find
me cruel. Indeed, I believe you would find pleasure in what I offer.”
“Pleasure, my lord? I do not quite take your meaning.”
“Will you not own to the slightest stirring? You may
deny your arousal but your body betrays ye, Roselyn. Your nipples are swollen,
your eyes have darkened as you consider my offer. I believe if you were to
spread your thighs for me now I would find you wet.”
“Wet?” She drew in a shuddering breath. “My nipples…
it is chilly in here.”
“Nay, it is not. I banked up the fire afore I woke
you. Stop making excuses and open your legs for me, Roselyn.”
“I will not.”
“Yes, you will, and you will do it now.”
“I…”
He trailed his fingers the length of her body, tracing
a path between her breasts and across her flat stomach to her mound. There he
teased the auburn curls which protected her most intimate place.
“Open for me.” He leaned in to whisper the words into
her ear, his familiar male smell overwhelming her senses. He was spice, and he
was musk, heather, pine, and something mysteriously unique, an essence which
was only his.
Roselyn was lost, mesmerised. She rolled fully onto
her back, even managed not to wince as her weight settled on her punished
buttocks. Bending her knees a little, she allowed him to tease her thighs
apart. His slid his hand between her legs and stroked her moist folds.
“Ah, so deliciously damp. Roselyn, you do indeed
delight me.”
“My lord…” She was lost, her words buried under the
waves of pure sensation. “What are you doing to me?”
“I am pleasuring ye, sweetheart. Be still for me, and
open wider.”
As though in a trance, wrapped in fog of unaccustomed
sensuality, Roselyn obeyed. She arched her back and let out a sharp cry as he
slipped one long finger into her wet channel.
He paused. “Did I hurt ye?”
She shook her head. “No. It was… oh, please do that
once more if you would.”
He thrust his finger into her again, then added a
second digit. Unfamiliar sensations assailed Roselyn, both confusing and
exciting. And intense. It was incredible, unbelievable. Her head whirled. She
felt tight, stretched, yet at the same time she wanted nothing other than to
spread her body open, to welcome this intrusion. He was right, this was about pleasure. It was a strange
sort of joy, but she craved it nonetheless.
“That feels good, my lord.”
“My title is laird, not lord, but I believe we are on
first name terms now. You will use my given name, most particularly when my
fingers or indeed any part of my anatomy is lodged within your sweet cunt.”
“Oh, God…”
“Nay, just Blair will do.” He withdrew his fingers and
resumed stroking her outer lips. He found a spot which brought Roselyn’s hips
right up from the mattress. “Ah, now I see I have your complete attention.
Perhaps you might like to practice using my name.” He paused in his sensuous
rubbing and Roselyn moaned her need.
“Say my name,” he urged.
“Blair.” She whispered it.
He resumed the torturous caress. “Again. Say it again.
Louder.”
She raised her voice a little. “Blair.”
“Better. And you will scream my name when you find
your release.”
“My…?”
He took that most sensitive nubbin between his fingers
and he squeezed. Something clenched within, deep in her core, and Roselyn
longed for his fingers to be inside her tight channel again. She yearned to be
filled, stretched, owned.
“Could you…? Blair, I need…”
“I know.” He continued to roll her sensitive flesh
between his fingers, whilst he used his free hand to open that most secret
place and plunged two digits into her again.
It was too much. Roselyn could no longer speak, could
not even form a coherent thought. She could only feel as irresistible shudders
rocked her slight form and her inner walls clenched helplessly around his
fingers. She arched further, lifting her hips, pleading for something,
anything…
“Oh, Blair. Blair, Blair, Blair!” She let out a keening wail as the sensations peaked and her
body convulsed, then, gasping, she stilled.
More about Ashe Barker
USA
Today best-selling author Ashe Barker has been an avid reader of fiction for
many years, erotic and other genres. She still loves reading, the hotter the
better. But now she has a good excuse for her guilty pleasure – research.
Ashe
tends to draw on her own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to her
plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event
or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.
Ashe
lives in the North of England, on the edge of the Brontë moors and enjoys the
occasional flirtation with pole dancing and drinking Earl Grey tea. When not
writing – which is not very often these days - her time is divided between her
role as taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of
dogs, tortoises. And a very grumpy
cockatiel.
At the
last count Ashe had over forty titles on general release with publishers on
both sides of the Atlantic, and several more in the pipeline. She writes M/f,
M/M, and occasionally rings the changes with a little M/M/f. Ashe’s books
invariably feature BDSM. She writes explicit stories, always hot, but offering
far more than just sizzling sex. Ashe likes to read about complex characters,
and to lose herself in compelling plots, so that’s what she writes too.
Ashe
has a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keeps thinking of new ones
at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from her.
Ashe loves to hear from readers. Here are her social
media links:
Or you
can email her direct on ashe.barker1@gmail.com
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