CELTICLADY'S REVIEWS: Stone of Lust Stones of Iona Book 3 by Margaret Izard Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #StoneOfLust #StonesOfIona @mizardauthor

She finds true love in the past, but is his love worth risking her future?

Stone of Lust

Stones of Iona Book 3

by Margaret Izard

Genre

Time Travel, Paranormal Romance

She finds true love in the past, but is his love worth risking her future?

She dreams of a Viking warrior with Fae-blue eyes and a God-like body that makes her heart pound like no other. Trying to save her kidnapped sister-in-law, Ainslie follows her back to the Vikings of Scotland, where she faces the very man who has haunted her dreams.

When Jarl, Rannick MacRaghnaill meets the alluring Warrior Woman who helped steal his warship, she dresses in clothing so strange that every curve teases his senses. But is she, as she claims, a woman from the future or an irresistible lying thief?

She’d risk her life to save her sister-in-law. He’d risk his honor to win her heart. Can both hardened warriors save the realms from the evilest of Fae’s minds combined with the most dangerous of humans?

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**Don’t miss the other books in the series!**

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Margaret Izard is an award-winning author of historical fantasy and paranormal romance novels. She spent her early years through college to 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, 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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She placed her sword at his throat. “Yield?” The warriors gasped, then cheered for her.

Rannick’s eyebrows rose as Ainslie helped the youth to his feet and patted him on the back. Rannick rubbed his neck and looked over his warriors. He called upon another warrior. “Gunnar, come fight the She Warrior.”

A large older warrior moved from the crowd, a grin on his face. As Gunnar passed, Rannick patted his back and whispered something, but Ainslie couldn’t hear what was said. The warrior nodded as he moved toward her. No matter. She’d fight anyone.

Both took their ready stance, and Rannick signaled for them to begin.

They circled, weighing their opponent waiting on who would take the offensive first.

It was Gunnar, with a slice of his blade on her shoulder. Ainslie blocked him well, but he stepped forward and slammed his shoulder into her knocking her down. Ainslie somersaulted backward to stand, her blade out and ready to defend the next block.

Gunnar glanced at Rannick, who nodded toward Ainslie.

They circled again, waiting to see who would advance.

Ainslie led the next attack with an overhead slash. Gunnar blocked it, pushing her back. He was more substantial, but she was small, agile, and smart.

They circled, and Ainslie went for his middle.

Gunnar blocked and spun, coming around overhead.

She stopped it with her blade and allowed him to slide down hers knowing she could quickly push it aside with his forward momentum. When his sword came to the hand guard, she moved with all her might. He stumbled on a sidestep at the unexpected shift. As he flew past her, Ainslie whacked his rear with the side of her blade. The warriors laughed, and Gunnar came for her in an off-balance rage. She sidestepped and hit his rear end again.

Gunnar leveled his eyes on her and advanced with his blade. Side-to-side attacks came at her fast, backing her into the mainmast, trapping her, obviously trying to end the fight. Knowing sailing and the rigging, Ainslie reached up and grabbed the tack line holding the sail in place and swung herself onto the keelson box beneath the main mast. She landed surefooted and, in her follow-through, swung her sword connecting with Gunnar’s disarming him. His sword flew out of his hand and clattered against the hull. He stood staring at his empty hand, then tilted his head back and laughed loudly.

He bowed to Ainslie. “Ye are Freyja, the war goddess. Her spirit lives in ye. I have never seen a woman fight. A Valkyrie, and I’m honored to fight with ye.”

Gunnar strode to Rannick whose eyebrows remained raised. “She has earned her coin. She has won the contest.”

The surrounding warriors cheered as Ainslie stood over them, proud of her accomplishment. She’d battled and won against a trained, skilled Viking warrior. Her da would be so proud. Some warriors grumbled as they settled on the bets made, bringing her out of her musings. Ainslie jumped down and approached Rannick. She grinned at him and held out her hand. “Time to settle up.”

Rannick dropped a gold coin in it, then glanced behind her. “Disarm her. She is still our guest.” Her guard Ivor must be back. The sword pulled in her hand, and she let him take it. He wasn’t who she focused on.

She stared at Rannick, her being so tall that they stood almost eye to eye. “I bested yer best. Admit it. A woman can fight.”

Rannick’s smile grew. “Oh, my sweet, he wasn’t my best. He was the one who wouldn’t hurt ye.”

Ainslie gripped the coin and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take on yer best any day, anytime, and I’d still win.”

She flipped the coin and caught it. “I’d even wager the gold coin on it.”

She flipped the coin again, and Rannick stepped toward her, catching the coin. They stood close as their breaths mingled. His sweet woodsy scent wafted over her, sandalwood and citrus. He glanced over her face and hair, then trailed to her chest.

His eyes returned to her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow as he spoke. “Warrior woman from another time or another land, my best would do ye harm. I have vowed never to harm a woman.”

Ainslie gazed back into his eyes. “That’s all right. Ye’d never get close enough with yer sword to harm me. But I may harm ye.”

Rannick stood there a moment, staring into her eyes. She glowered back with the glare of a challenge. She held out her hand for the coin. He took it in his, the rough callouses brushing her skin, sending goose bumps up her arm. He placed her coin in her palm and closed his hands over hers, holding her hand in an embrace.

Without taking his eyes off her, he said, “Ivor, find a second guard. The She Warrior might need more than one.”

He winked at her, released her hand, and turned, moving away.