Rich Tapestry
A Totally Bound Publication
Rich Tapestry
ISBN #
978-1-78430-176-7
©Copyright Ashe Barker 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2014
Edited by Sarah Smeaton
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
A Richness of Swallows
RICH TAPESTRY
Ashe Barker
Book one in the A Richness of Swallows serial
No act of kindness goes unpunished.
Summer Jones likes things to be tidy. Predictable, well-ordered and meticulous—she likes to be in control. So when she finds herself waiting for a friend in a BDSM club, she is horrified when an attractive Dom offers to show her around. She agrees, but there’s a catch. Her sassy mouth has earned her a punishment at his hands. She has to accept his terms or spend the evening alone. Despite her apprehension, Summer can’t deny her curiosity about this lifestyle and the pleasures it seems to offer.
But will one night with accomplished Dom, Daniel Riche, fulfil her dreams, or will it just prove to her what she always suspected, that anything so intense is best avoided?
Scared, confused, and utterly horrified at her response to Daniel’s touch and his dark brand of pleasure, Summer still finds herself yearning for more. Why, despite her pleas and his obvious appreciation of her body, is he peculiarly reluctant to deliver all she demands from him?
Hurt and confused, Summer is desperate to escape. But can she leave her memories of Daniel behind? Does she really want to?
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my family, as ever, John and Hannah.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Lycra: Invista
BMW: BMW AG
Travelodge: Travelodge Hotels Limited
Bugsy Malone: The Rank Organisation; Paramount Pictures Corporation
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Land Rover: Jaguar Land Rover Automotive PLC
Prologue
Cumbria, November 2010
Shit! What was that?
I slam on the brakes, more or less standing the car on its nose. I just hit something, definitely. I saw the silvery blur in my headlamps, caught the rush of movement just before the jolt of impact. Thank God Freya’s immaculate new BMW has a decent set of tires, even if I have just left half the tread on the road. Christ, she only got the thing a couple of weeks ago. She might be my best friend but I can guarantee she’ll never lend me her car again if I’ve managed to bend it.
I peer into the rear-view mirror, expecting to see—what? I’m not sure. I can only make out vague shapes in the blackness. It’s early evening still, but night falls fast in Cumbria in November. The darkness is total.
It was an animal, I’m certain of it, but beyond that I have no idea. Too big for a cat, wrong color for a fox. Dog perhaps? No, not a dog—or if it was it was like none I’ve seen before.
I flirt with the notion of just driving on. It must have been some sort of wild animal, and as long as it’s not in the road causing an obstruction there’s no need to report it. I dismiss that idea as quickly as I dreamed it up. Whatever I hit, I should check. Until I do I can’t be sure it’s not still on the carriageway. At the very least I need to know that the casualty is dead and not suffering at the road side.
I draw in a deep breath to firm up my resolve, then dig in Freya’s glove box for the small torch she usually keeps there. I get out of the car to stand in the middle of the narrow lane looking back the way I came, sweeping the beam of light across the road. The—whatever—shot out of the undergrowth on the left hand side and across the front of my car. I assume it kept on going after I hit it, which would place it somewhere to my left now. I start to retrace my steps. The skid marks on the tarmac show me the point of impact so I concentrate my attention on the long grass and brambles lining the roadside just there. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for.
A badger.
Illuminated by my torchlight the creature is the size of a small dog, but there the similarity ends. A short, squat frame, black and white striped muzzle, brownish body, its short legs are endowed with paws designed for digging. They sport the most vicious looking set of claws I’ve ever seen. The animal is lying quite still on its side, maybe four feet from the edge of the road. A trickle of blood is visible on its shiny black nose but that is the only obvious injury. The rest must have been internal.
I feel a pang of guilt as I turn to leave. I wasn’t traveling especially fast, certainly well within the speed limit, and in reality I know there was nothing I could have done to avoid the badger. But still, a life lost for no good reason. It saddens me.
I’ve taken no more than two steps when I hear it. A low sound, a grunt, then breathing. Labored, desperate breathing, the animal is fighting for every gulp of oxygen. But fighting it is. It’s not dead.
I turn back, crouch at the edge of the road to get a better look. I can see the badger’s flanks moving now, where I’m sure they weren’t before. Perhaps it was stunned for a few minutes. Whatever, it’s definitely alive, and injured.
This is a problem, and one I hadn’t really anticipated. I was sure I’d killed it. Now, I’ve no idea what to do to help the poor creature. I could have left it if it was dead. I’d have been sorry, but I would have done it. Not now. I’m responsible, sort of. I shuffle a bit closer, and can see that although the animal is breathing, and making sounds, it appears to be unconscious. Its eyes are closed—it seems unaware that I’m here.
I reach out, tentative, cautious. These things have a nasty bite, or so I’ve heard. Somehow this chap doesn’t look to be in any state to take a lump out of me though. Not today.
I lay my hand on the badger’s heaving side. I can feel the flutter of a heartbeat, and the tortured movement of its chest as it battles for breath. I don’t think this struggle will go on for long, but even so I can’t just leave it to its fate, however inevitable.
A vet, that’s what’s needed. Trouble is, I’ve never owned so much as a hamster so I’ve never required the services of a vet. I don’t have one on my speed dial, and I’ve no idea where the closest surgery might be located. There must be one somewhere near here. For heaven’s sake, Cumbria is full of animals, you can’t move for sheep half the year. There must be an army of vets, stethoscopes poised, syringes at the ready. It’s just that I can’t call one to mind.
I consider my options. Ulverston, perhaps. Barrow certainly, though that’s over ten miles away. How would I even get the poor thing there? I wonder if a vet would come out here. Probably, but by the time anyone arrives the badger will be past helping I suspect.
Then it hits me. The zoo. I’m only a couple of miles from Dalton, site of the Lake District Wildlife Park. They deal more in giraffe and rhinoceros if memory serves. And tigers. But surely the principles are the same. Any vet who can deal with lions and tigers can surely handle a little badger.
I glance at my watch. It’s already after six in the evening—the zoo will be closed by now. Even so, there must be staff there. They wouldn’t just leave all those valuable animals to their own devices. What if one gets ill? There must be a vet there, or at least a veterinary nurse.
My course decided, now it’s down to logistics. The only possible method of transport is Freya’s back seat, which means I need to heave the poor badger out of the hedgerow and somehow manage to carry it to the car. Touching its side to check if it was alive was one thing, the prospect of actually picking it up quite another.
Still, needs must. I remember that Freya has a car blanket in the boot so I go to fetch that. The badger sounds to be getting worse when I return with the tartan rug, and again I’m tempted to just let nature take its course. After a few seconds the sound settles down again. Seems I’m still committed.
No point drawing this out. I assume my most determined attitude and toss the blanket over the injured animal. I scramble into the brambles, wishing I was more appropriately dressed for this sort of activity. I was on my way back from a job interview, just part-time work to help out with my college fees, when the badger with a death wish crossed my path. I’m wearing my—well, Freya’s—best business style suit and spiky heels. I managed to look the part earlier at Kirkby-in Furness community library, but I feel somewhat overdressed now. Short on options I grit my teeth and get on with it.
I lean across to tuck the ends down over the far side of the creature, ensuring those fearsome looking claws are completely contained. Then, steeling myself, I push my hands underneath and heave the thing onto my lap.
It’s heavier than I imagined. Clearly there’s no shortage of beetles round here, or whatever badgers eat. This one’s not been going short. With a fair amount of grunting and wheezing of my own I manage to get to my feet, the badger bundled up in my arms. Bitterly regretting the heels I’m wearing I stagger over to the car and lower my burden carefully onto the back seat. The badger has not regained consciousness, which I daresay is a mercy for us both.
Ten minutes later I’m pulling up in the dark and deserted zoo car park. The place is locked up tight, not a soul around. No reason why there should be. I realize I have no idea at all what to do now. It’s not as though I can just go and rattle the gate and expect someone to come. I could try phoning the number on the sign outside, though it’s unlikely they have anyone on the switchboard at this time. I really should have thought this through more.
