Amazon I Barnes and Noble I iBooks

GooglePlay I Amazon UK I Amazon Canada I Kobo

Isobel’s and Grant’s Story

Forced to wed the lass responsible for his friend’s death, Grant MacDonald, is determined to tame his savage wife. On a mission to Edinburgh to prevent war, sparks fly as they spar with each other and he begins to see her hard exterior may be hiding something softer. But will he be able to stop her quest for vengeance before another life is lost?

As second in command of an outlawed rebel group, Isobel MacLean seeks justice for those who cannot defend themselves. When her identity is compromised, a Highland Warrior allows her nemesis to escape before she can eliminate the threat.  Obligated to marry the man who put her and her clan’s lives in danger, she resists the pull of her new husband. But when he prevents her from seeking justice, how will she save his life?

 

Excerpt:

Nae.

Grant’s hands fisted as he caught a glimpse of his new bride. His eyes must be playing tricks on him. He was supposed to be wedding the MacLean laird’s daughter, Isobel. This was the wench from the Royalist Resistance. As she moved closer, he was certain it was the woman he’d seen wielding a sword in battle, but the laird’s heir escorted her down as if she were a lady of worth. He swallowed.

The famed fighter had kept her identity hidden for years, and now he saw how. No one would suspect a cultured, refined woman to be donning men’s clothes and sneaking off with wanted criminals.

He’d already lost one wife, what would it say about him if he killed his second on their wedding night?

The lass’s gaze skidded across the crowd to land on his and shock registered in her stare just as her feet stalled and her brother tugged her along. Aye, she recognized him as well. Good, because she had a lot to answer for.

Why had he not insisted on meeting his betrothed before the ceremony? If he’d known whom he was about to marry, he’d have found a way out of it.

But the MacLeans had been delayed in getting to his home on the Isle of Skye and had insisted the wedding plans go ahead as they were. Had it been The MacLean’s strategy all along to dump his lioness of a daughter onto a man who might be able to control her? Did the man even know the extent of his daughter’s activities?

Isobel MacLean was bonny in the candlelight, dressed in white, hair pinned in place, a deceptively sedate smile plastered on her face. But even if she cleaned up nicely, he would never forget the lass he blamed for the death of his friend.

The closer she got, the surer he became that she was the only female member of the Royalist Resistance, the group who had taken it upon themselves to seek retribution against the Covenanters who spread their own vicious brand of hatred around the Highlands. Neither group was better than the other.

His stomach churned and he looked to his father, thinking one more time to beg his way out of this marriage, but the pleading he’d already done had fallen on deaf ears. His father had falsely imprisoned The MacLean, and this was their demand for reparation. Denying his bride at this point would start a war. Wedding the MacLean lass was his duty, whether she fit the mold of what he wanted or not.

He’d heard rumors about The MacLean’s only daughter, how she acted more like a man than a woman, how she never dressed for social occasions and how she shunned the traditional female role. He’d passed the tales off as gossip or jealousy because it was also said that despite her habits, she was an attractive lass.

Those rumors had been true as well. She was lovely, but he’d known the first moment he’d seen her in the middle of a skirmish between Covenanters and the Royalist Resistance. She had been confident and her face flushed a rosy pink from exertion. An overwhelming urge to protect her had overcome him. It’s what had distracted him from his duty and led to his friend’s death. And then she’d cursed him, not even thankful for his assistance. 

It only now made sense that she would be one of the Earl of Argyll’s most wanted. If the leader of the Covenanters discovered who she was, it would bring all the man’s forces down onto his people. Grant clenched his hands and tried to bring his anger in check.

She’d be his responsibility now. Her days of causing conflicts in the Highlands were over, even if he had to keep her locked away in the dungeons of Cairntay.

Ross MacLean put Isobel’s hands in his and nodded, backing away and leaving the two alone in the front of the room with the priest. Grant squeezed a little too hard and she glared at him then wiggled her fingers, trying to break free.

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear, “Ye are hurting me.”

“Ye are lucky there is a room full of witnesses and a man of God or I would be using strong language to express my feelings about your recent activities.” Still, he eased his grip.

His gaze darted to his father, who looked pleased. Maybe the man mistook their banter as acceptance of this farce of a union. He had to admit Isobel was a fine sight. But his father hadn’t seen her dressed as a man wielding a sword as if she had been bred to battle.

“I dinnae want this any more than ye do,” she retorted as she pushed at the stray golden-brown curl which bobbed down from the top of her temple.

“I doubt that.” Rage bubbled up as he studied her eyes and remembered those of his fallen friend.

“Then release me from this match,” she hissed as he caught a whiff of exotic flowers that heated his blood and stirred his loins.

“And start a war with yer clan? I think no’.”

She tried to pull free, but he tightened his grip just as the priest coughed to get their attention.