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Gypsy Rose Dulan just knew there was a secret hidden in the stars. She just didn’t expect to fall asleep while searching for that secret. And she sure didn’t expect to be awakened by a rude, overbearing, short Irishman by the name of Tavish O’Leary. That he called her a squaw was contemptible enough, but to have to withstand his barbs for more than a month was more than she figured she could endure. Meanwhile, Tavish had been waiting for a prophecy from a gypsy named Paqui to come true. He’d been told that when it was time for him to choose a wife, a pretty young woman with eyes the color of a robin’s egg would come into his life, but the gypsy had failed to mention that the woman with those eyes would be holding the sharp, hot blade of a knife against his throat the first time they met.