Lance barely made it outside without falling over. He had tried his best to look sober while saying his vows because he didn’t want the Scots to laugh at him. That Mountain Magic was the strongest whisky he’d ever tasted in his life! He now regretted chugging it down so fast. Once his new wife’s things were loaded, he decided he wasn’t going to be able to mount his horse, let alone stay in the saddle in this condition. Why the hell had he let the bloody Scots give him that drink?

“Squire, make sure my horse gets back to the castle.” Lance sat down on the back of the wagon and took Coira’s hands in his. Had he really called her Nora earlier? It kind of slipped out. He knew her name, but it just came out wrong, that’s all. “Bride, join me in the wagon.” He pulled her to him and wanted to kiss her, but she looked away. “What’s the matter? Am I too ugly for you to look me in the eye?”

“Hrmph,” sniffed the gypsy woman from behind the girl. “Too drunk is more like it.”

“Why are you even here?” he asked the old woman.

“She is my handmaid and is comin’ with me.” Coira didn’t talk much, but when she did, he found he didn’t like what she had to say.

“Fine, then you drive the cart, Gypsy.”

“Me?” The woman gave him an evil stare. “Why should I?”

“Because I don’t want you in the back with my bride and me on our wedding night.” He might be well in his cups, but he didn’t miss the exchange of worried looks between his new wife and her handmaid.

“I think Coira wants me in back with her.” When the gypsy walked, he heard tiny bells tinkling. Or was that just from the whisky that made him feel heady?

“It’s that, or you stay behind,” he growled. “Your choice.”

The old woman let out a frustrated sigh and waddled over to climb into the driver’s seat of the wagon. “My name is Zara,” she spat.

“Zara? What kind of name is that?” He chuckled. “It is the silliest name I have ever heard in my life and holds no meaning whatsoever.”

“What about the name Lance?” his new wife boldly asked, surprising him yet again. “I happen to think that name holds no meanin’ either.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her hard. Instead of the soft, supple lips he expected, they were stiff and unmoving. He lifted her up and sat her next to him in the back of the wagon. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear. “That’s because you haven’t spent time with me in bed, yet. Once we consummate the marriage, I guarantee my name will hold all the meaning in the world.” He almost burst out laughing when her eyes opened wide, and so did her mouth.

The wagon jolted as the old gypsy directed the horse forward. When it moved, he fell to his back, looking up at the stars in the night sky. Why was the sky spinning and why did his head feel so foggy? Damn, it must be from that stinking Mountain Magic. He tried his hardest to stay awake, but his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and sleep overtook him before he could do anything to stop it.

“Zara,” called Coira from next to her new husband after he’d stopped talking and had lain still for the last hour. “Zara, do ye think he’s dead?”

Zara drove the cart down the road as they followed the procession of soldiers south. The lord’s squire and a few guards on horseback brought up the rear.

“We can only hope,” grumbled Zara. “Nay, Coira, I think he is unconscious from being a fool and chugging down a tankard of Mountain Magic like it was ale.”

“Guid.” Coira got to her feet, holding on to the sides of the wagon as she made her way over to Zara. “I hope he never wakes up.” She climbed over the sidewall and sat down on the driver’s bench next to Zara.

“Coira, the truth is, he is going to wake up. And when he does you will be expected to consummate the marriage with him.”

“I’m scared, Zara. It’s my first time.”

“There is nothing to it.” Zara patted Coira’s hand as she spoke. “Perhaps he isn’t as bad of a person as he seems right now. Maybe things will get better in time.”

“He’s the nephew of the man who almost killed me. He’s my enemy! That is somethin’ that will never change.”

“Aye, there are some things that can be changed and others that cannot,” she said with a wise nod of her head. “But I want you to remember the card you chose tonight.”

“The blue rose,” said Coira, thinking of the card.

“That’s right, Child. That should tell you right there that enemies will turn into lovers.”

“But it’s just a card. It’s no’ real. There is no such thing as a blue rose.”

Zara turned her head and looked at Coira with a serious expression. “You may have never seen one, but I assure you they are real. They are very rare, and most people will never see one in their lifetime, but they do exist.”

“What are ye sayin’, Zara? How does that pertain to Lance and me?”

“I’m not sure.” Zara faced forward as she spoke. “All I know is that I’ve never seen anyone pull that card before in all the time I’ve been reading fortunes.”

“Is that a guid thing or a bad thing?” asked Coira, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Coira. But I do know one thing; if a blue rose blooms, it is complicated. Enemies will turn into lovers, but I can’t say what will happen along the way or how long it will take.”

“Zara, are ye sayin’ that this marriage might no’ be enjoyable?”

“I’m not saying that. I am only saying that it will be . . . unique and unpredictable.”