Conquest in a Velvet Glove by Ashe Barker EPUB & PDF

Conquest in a Velvet Glove (LOVE. HONOUR. CONQUER. #4) by Ashe Barker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Status: Available for Free Download
• Authors: Ashe Barker
• Language: English
• Genre: Historical Romance
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Size: 2 MB
• Price: Free

Fynmuir Castle, East Coast of Scotland
1489
“How long will ye be away?” Sorcha rolled onto her stomach
and propped herself up on her elbows.
“Ye ken as well as I do, the laird willnae let us return till
he is good an’ ready.” Her lover bent to retrieve his boots
from beneath her bed, then cast an appreciative glance at her
bared breasts. He paused for a moment, clearly
contemplating the prospect of clambering back between her
sheets, and her thighs.

She sighed. The notion was not unappealing, but the last
thing she needed was her brother, the laird, barging in here
in search of his best archer.

But Rory was right. Callum Fenwick had been simmering
for the better part of a week, his temper brewing, made
worse by enforced inactivity since he had found himself
uncharacteristically indisposed. He had been lashing out at
the entire household for days, ordering whippings for the
smallest dereliction of duty, the most trivial of imagined
slights. The entire castle walked on eggshells when he sank
into one of these dark moods. Even Sorcha had opted to give
him a wide berth, although it went very much against the
grain.

And, she was, after all, responsible for his ill humour. He
had landed a vicious kick at Old Tom, the docile and
distinctly ancient tomcat who spent his days dozing in the
kitchens. The poor creature had died as a result of Callum’s
cruelty, much to Sorcha’s dismay. Old Tom was hardly a
gentle pet, she had been on the receiving end of his sharp
claws herself on more than a few occasions, but she was fond
of him anyway. And he had done no one any lasting harm.

Her response had been to grind up a dozen or so beetles
with piss from the privy and some even more noxious
substances she had found there. It was a filthy task, but she
had considered it worth her sacrifice to teach Callum a lesson
about picking on those weaker than himself. The concoction
had found its way into his ale later the same evening, when
he was already too drunk to notice that it tasted foul. He had
spent the past three days in the privy, returning the contents
of his doctored ale to whence it came.

Over the years, she had come to value the wisdom of
discretion, of picking her battles, or at least her moment. As
Sorcha had grown into womanhood, she had come to
appreciate the peculiar satisfaction she could have by
twisting her vile sibling around her clever little finger. He
lacked nothing in brawn, in brutality, but had been nowhere
near the head of the queue when brains had been handed out.

He might suspect her of foul play while he crouched over the
privy like a toad, but he could prove nothing.

Their father had passed away five summers previously,
and Callum became laird. Matters between them settled
down for a while. He was busy, suddenly. He had
responsibilities, much to occupy his mind. He had no time to
spare for petty sniping and tormenting his sister, though he

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