Synopsis

A kiss under the Mistletoe brings good fortune, but can a Christmas wedding stop a deadly feud?

The soft beauty beside him at the altar would make the perfect bride. Roderick MacDougall would do anything to stop the feud without more bloodshed. Too bad the gorgeous woman is the daughter of his greatest enemy who murdered his da. Trust in a Comyn is hard won, even if she tempts his senses.

Mary Comyn only wants to stop the wars and live a life of peace and goodwill. Tricked by her father and forced by the English king to marry her clan’s enemy, Mary fears she’s scarifying finding true love for peace. A Christmas wedding sounds romantic, but why would the handsome MacDougall laird, her greatest clan enemy, love her?

A man conflicted by duty charged to find peace. A woman whose father betrayed all. When betrayal looms from within, can enemies find love and forge a new future for both clans?

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Excerpt

“Stop, don’t kill anyone.” Breaths echoed in the silent church as Mary’s heart lurched from her chest. A blade held at her father’s throat. Another at her clan’s long-time enemy, the MacDougall laird.

The newest laird stood proud, eyeing her from across the pulpit. He’d tied his jet-black hair in a queue at his nap leaving a lock that fell over his eye, making him seem handsome and vulnerable.

Damn him. She shouldn’t find her enemy attractive.

His expression held malice and disgust, reflecting her father’s. The expression the MacDougall wore, her father well earned. The glare her father settled on Laird MacDougall, she knew, was not.

She took a deep breath. “Certainly, there is some other way.”

The king’s agent spoke in a flat voice. “Marry, or they both die.”

Her gaze shot back to the MacDougall laird. While not old, he wasn’t in the budding of youth. His enormous frame filled out his clothing well, and the muscles on his exposed thighs flexed as he fought to remain still. Her eyes traveled back to his face, and his mouth quirked a half grin.

The king’s agent raised his hand, and Mary grabbed his arm. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry Laird MacDougall.” One of her mother’s sayings echoed, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. One step toward peace, and it started with her.

The king’s agent chuckled. “Lass, you are the wisest in the room.”

She fingered her cross necklace, knowing a knife hid inside. But her pin knife, compared to the swords the king’s guards carried, remained useless. The moments before the confrontation ran through her mind.

Why was she here for a meeting between the king’s agent and her father? At Iona Abbey, of all places. Prior to entering, the king’s guards disarmed her and her father’s men. They wait, but for whom?

A scuffle from the back of the church alerted them that the guests they had waited for had finally arrived.

A long curse echoed in the sanctuary. “Son of a bitch, the Comyns.”

Mary turned, and the worst sight greeted her. Her clan’s long-time enemy stood at the back of the church. His plaid was similar to her Comyn’s, green and red. But the dominant color of the MacDougall’s was red, whereas hers had more green and blue.

Her eyes connected with the large warrior’s, much as they had weeks before in battle. She wasn’t supposed to be with the war party, but she’d come, the men needing her. Her father, too focused on the attack, didn’t notice or maybe didn’t care. She spotted the MacDougall on the ramparts as he called orders to his men, who responded as they tried in vain to protect their home. When his eyes found hers, they both stopped as the fighting continued. The blue of his eyes captured her. The intensity of his glare rooted her to the spot. She took a breath, then another, and he still stared as awareness washed over her. He’s your match, your soul mate. She shook the sensation off, breaking eye contact. When her gaze tried to find his again, he had gone.

Now facing him here, those deep blues eyes held her in place.

What did the king have in mind?

That was earlier; the memory rang in her mind as the surrounding people shifted and prepared for a wedding ceremony. Had she known this morning, today would be her wedding day, she would have prepared better. A blue handkerchief, a token for her shoe, her grandmother’s veil she’d kept wishing to wear it on her wedding day. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and sixpence for her shoe. Silly, but traditions all the same.

Her eyes roamed the church. At least greenery decorated the pulpit and pews, ready for the Christmas season. If they hadn’t forced this upon her, she might find a holiday wedding romantic. She always wanted a husband, home, and children. Be careful what ye wish for, echoed—one of her mother’s sayings. Here she was, a bride-to-be only mere weeks after a bloody clan battle. The king threatened the two lairds to meet or die. Demanding Mary be present. She should have known this was not good. Nothing good came from the English king.

The reverend turned to his place before her, and her stare met Laird MacDougall’s again. His stern expression did nothing to calm her nerves, and the tick in his jaw reminded her of her father’s fast fists. She glanced at her hands as a shiver shook her body.

“Trust me, lass, this isn’t to my liking either,” the laird growled.

Her eyes shot to his, and she spoke without thinking. “Such romantic words from the groom.”

“Too bad that sharp tongue doesn’t match yer soft beauty. And here, I had hopes.” His mouth quirked in almost a smile as the edges of his eyes crinkled. Was he jesting with her?

About the Author

Margaret Izard is an award-winning author of historical fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She spent her early years through college and adulthood dedicated to dance, theater, and performing. Over the years, she developed a love for great storytelling in different mediums. She does not waste a good story, be it movement, the spoken, or the written word. She discovered historical romance novels in middle school, which combined her passion for romance, drama, and fantasy. She writes exciting plot lines and steamy love scenes and always falls for a strong male with a soft heart. She lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and adult triplets and loves to hear from readers.

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