By Ashe Barker (Guest Blogger)
As
2016 shudders to a close (and I suspect more than a few of us are
glad to see the back of it for a whole lot of reasons) I’m
delighted to find there’s just time to squeeze out one last book to
see in the New Year with a bang. My latest story which has just gone
live on Amazon is set in the Scottish Highlands in the 1400s so I can
promise you with absolute confidence there will be no mention of
Brexit, presidential elections, the Olympics, killer clowns or the
latest Star Wars epic.
What
I do have to offer 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. And before I go, may I take this opportunity to
thank Lisabet for inviting me over to see in the New Year with you,
and all my readers for their support during 2016. I wish you all the
best for a fabulously sexy New Year.
Enough
from me. Now, here’s the 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.
Buy
The
Laird and the Sassenach
NOW from
Amazon
Prefer
to try before you buy? Read
Chapter One for FREE
To
celebrate my final release of 2016 I’m offering three readers the
chance to win their choice of ebook from my back list. Just leave a
comment below to be entered in the draw, or for more chances to win
you can follow this link to enter
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And
how about an excerpt to whet the appetite? Here are a few paragraphs
to help set the scene.
“I
shall have to trouble you to remove your gown, Roselyn. And your
shift. I require you naked to the waist.”
Her
eyes darkened to a shade close to violet. “I cannot. You cannot ask
that of me.”
“I
am not asking. It is not a request, it is a command. You will remove
your clothing, or I shall summon a couple of my guards and they will
remove it for you.” He stood and reached for her thin shoulder.
Apart from offering her his arm to lead her into the solar this was
the first time he had touched her and he was oddly pleased that
despite her predicament and obvious fear she did not shrink away from
him. He squeezed gently. “I do not intend to harm you, Roselyn, and
this will be easier for you if just the two of us are present. If you
require assistance I shall be pleased to aid you.”
She
turned her face in his direction. “You really believe there might
still be bruises.”
“It
is possible, aye. Shall we find out?” He deliberately gentled his
tone, sensing that she was willing to do even this if it would help
to bolster her case.
There
was a brief pause. She chewed on her lower lip and twisted her
fingers nervously. Moments passed, then she raised her face to grant
him a tremulous smile. “Very well, my lord. Thank you.”
“Thank
you?”
“For
your offer of aid. I believe I shall require it for my hands are
shaking.”
Fuck.
He took no pleasure in that knowledge, though why he should care was
beyond him. Blair turned her to face him and with a few deft
movements untied the laces which held her kirtle closed at the neck.
The garment was simple enough, and practical. He was glad of that as
he separated the two halves and slid it off her shoulders and down
her arms. Beneath she wore just a woollen leine, loose enough not to
require any fastenings. The lower portion disappeared into the skirts
of her kirtle, still held at the waist by her belt made of plaited
leather. Blair loosened the belt to free the fabric beneath, then
pulled the leine up out of the confines of her outer clothing.
Despite her acquiescence Roselyn made a grab for the garment as he
started to lift it higher.
Blair
paused. “Roselyn?”
She
released her grip on the soft wool and raised her arms obediently in
order to allow him to draw it over her head. She was naked beneath.
She
was his enemy, but that was no reason not to speak his mind. Blair
made no pretence of not observing what was displayed before him.
“You
are quite lovely, Lady Roselyn.”
She
gulped and laid her hands over the plump mounds. “Please…” she
whispered.
He
leaned in to murmur in her ear. “Do not be afraid. I mean you no
harm here. I will touch you now, and if I hurt you, you must say so.
Do you understand?”
“Yes,
sir.” Her lovely eyes were closed and she continued to worry her
lower lip between her small white teeth. Despite his reassurances she
was plainly terrified. The view was delightful but even so he opted
to conclude their business as quickly as he might.
“Turn
to the right, if you please, to better catch the light from the
window.” Not that he particularly required the benefit of improved
illumination; the yellows and faint purplish smudges on her skin were
plain to see. Blair was familiar with injuries acquired in battle and
in training. He had sustained enough himself and had no difficulty in
recognising the remnants of a severe battering. Both sides of her
slender torso were similarly marked from just below her arms almost
to her waist. He could not accurately date the original attack, but
saw no cause to dispute her account of it.
He
stroked the contours of her ribs on her left side, careful to exert
no pressure. Even so, she winced. “Does it still pain ye, lass?”
“Your
hands are cold, my lord.”
Blair
chuckled. “Ah, I apologise.” He stepped around to better examine
the right side also. This time when he laid his fingers on her she
remained still.
“Are
there bruises, my lord?”
“Aye,
there are.”
“Then
this will prove my account? You believe me?”
“It
helps, without doubt. ‘Tis a pity we have no witness to support
your story, though I daresay I could dispatch men to Kelso to
question the Reverend Mother.”
“You
would do that?”
He
was surprised to realise that he would. Indeed he would, for he found
he badly wanted to prove the mitigating circumstances which might
help excuse Lady Roselyn’s actions. He was not a fool, Blair knew
his people well. He would have to present convincing evidence of
coercion in order to satisfy the members of Clan McGregor who would
demand retribution for the deaths of their kinsfolk. As matters stood
they would expect him to hang the English wench and would consider
that a merciful end. It might yet come to that, but despite his
earlier intentions he now found he had no real stomach for heaping
his vengeance upon this fragile wench.
Excerpt
2 (X rated)
“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 directly at ashe.barker1 [at] gmail [dot] com.
Don't forget to enter my drawing! You can use the Rafflecopter below, AND leave a comment, for two entries!
