It was a sentiment that Steve understood. His untamed tigress, his siren-nemesis wife, was the kind of woman who kept a man curious as well as cautious. He was living proof of that.
Yes, he understood Bishop’s desire to use Ginny as a means of gaining information from Lerdo and Díaz, much as he hated the thought of it. She was the kind of woman who would always be noticed by men, and by jealous women as well. Even ’Cesca, who was one of the most confident women he had ever met in his life, had admitted to a twinge of jealousy.
“Caro, your wife is a bitch, but a beautiful bitch. I can see how she would attract a man such as yourself, though I think you a fool for going back to her.”
Ginny would not have appreciated the Italian woman’s dismissive assessment of her, but she had voiced her own opinion of Francesca that was even less flattering. Being in the same room with them in London had not been an experience he cared to repeat; he’d been on tenterhooks waiting for one of them to start an angry, spitting catfight, and had been amazed by Ginny’s restraint.
Maybe she had changed, as Paco said, but he was damned if he knew how permanent it would be. He didn’t trust her not to revert to her old ways.
Hell, he couldn’t trust himself not to lapse into his more familiar role as an indifferent husband. It would be far too easy to forget their recent vows to revive their marriage for the sake of the children as well as their own mutual need. With Ginny, he always felt as if he were walking a tightrope, balanced precariously between heaven and hell.
The dragging creak of chains was suddenly loud, and diverted his attention to the fact that the ship was about to depart. Steve left the rail and Paco, and headed down the passageway belowdecks. The pungent scent of damp wood and cargo was thick in the air, redolent with vestiges of spice and tobacco, even whiskey.
The Liberty made frequent voyages to the Texas-Mexico border to deliver cargo, some of it not as legal as the ship’s manifests recorded. It was sleek and silent, a vast advantage over the noisier, more visible steamships of the line, and able to slip into port without much notice.
Ginny was seated on the narrow bunk that served as their bed. She looked up when he entered, her eyes a cool green in the bright light of a lamp on the opposite wall.
Their eyes clashed briefly before he crossed the small cabin to open the round porthole. “Even damp air is better than none,” he said casually, but she didn’t respond to his comment.
Shouts and curses filtered into the cabin on the rush of brackish air; chains rattled and ropes shrieked as sails were hauled. Ginny stood up, put a hand against the wall to steady herself as the ship lurched and met his gaze.
“I have been thinking about the political situation in Mexico. It occurred to me that I could be of use in meeting with Don Porfirio and Señor—President Lerdo. If your intent is to be a mediator between them, remember that I know both men, even worked for Don Porfirio at one time. There’s no reason for us to be separated from one another—unless you just don’t want me with you.”
Beneath the mask of indifference she wore like a banner he sensed her uncertainty, her apprehension.
“You’re quite clever, love. Why would you think it wise for you to meet with Díaz or Lerdo?”
“Because Don Porfirio was quite pleased with me when we were in Puebla, and he enjoyed my educating him in French and even English. And Señor Lerdo was nice to me in San Francisco. I think he even tried to protect me from—the prince. That was at first. He tried to warn me about Ivan, I think, and it was Lerdo who told me that you had agreed to the annulment of our marriage.”
“That was your father’s decision, not mine.” Steve leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, deliberately cool and remote. Ginny had removed her voluminous cloak, and the silk gown clung to her curves. It was a soft yellow that brought out the copper tones in hair loose and waving around her serious face. She looked like a gypsy, with her slanted eyes and high cheekbones, familiar, yet as mysterious to him now as she had been the first time he saw her.
How beautiful she was…. It still mystified him that she had crept under his guard as she had, and made herself indispensable to him. Even now, knowing that she would be angry when he finally told her what he had to do, he could admit the depth of his feelings for her. Hell, he loved her. He had for longer than he could remember.
If he did what Bishop wanted they’d be separated again, and that was when trouble always seemed to keep them apart. Was it worth the risk? Maybe he owed her honesty, owed her the chance to make her own choices….
“When we get to Mexico,” he said abruptly, “I’m to leave you at my grandfather’s and go on to Mexico City.”
Ginny’s brow shot up. “For how long?”
“Not long, just long enough to see which side is going to come out the winner in this coup. From what I’ve learned, Lerdo is losing, but we can’t be certain until it’s over. My job is to find out all I can, then make sure the victor keeps the best interests of the United States in mind.”
“Was leaving me behind your idea or Bishop’s?”
Her chin came up in that familiar, stubborn tilt that always meant trouble, a defensive gesture that he recognized from long experience. She made him think of a wild forest creature, ready at a moment’s notice to flee or fight.
“Christ, Ginny, why would you
