Though he seemed more stooped and used a cane since his stroke, and his gray hair had turned white, Don Francisco looked happier than ever before. It was his wife who made the difference, her serenity and elegance a welcome addition to the hacienda.

“I like her,” Ginny told Steve, and shrugged when he scowled. “You have nothing against her except that she’s married to your grandfather.”

“And bore his child to be raised by another man.”

Amused, Ginny said, “A fine time to remember morals, Steve Morgan! You know why she did that. Oh wait—I see. You resent the fact that your grandfather has a son. Is it your inheritance that worries you?”

“Don’t be stupid, Ginny.” His voice was harsh, and though she knew she should stop, she couldn’t help tweaking him a little.

“No, it can’t be that, since you inherited your mother’s portion…. I know, it’s that Richard is heir to a title and you aren’t—”

He grabbed her arm, fingers tight on her wrist, and said softly, “Enough, Ginny.”

She recognized the steel beneath his soft tone and shrugged, rubbing at her wrist when he released her. A curl of music drifted from the patio to where they stood beneath an archway covered in vines. She was suddenly sorry that she had provoked him.

“Dance with me, Steve.”

“Little hellcat. You insult me one moment, want me to dance with you the next. I ought to go dance with fat Rosa.”

“She can dance rings around you,” she teased, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She could feel his muscles tense. “I want to dance with the most handsome man here, and that’s you. Don’t tell me no, or I might have to choose another partner.”

“You would do it, too.” He slanted her a faint smile. “I may end up having to fight before the night is over if you continue to drink champagne. It makes you a flirt.”

She laughed, flashing him a glance from beneath her eyes as they reached the cleared spot where a dance floor had been laid beneath trees strung with bright lanterns. The music was familiar and lively, and she began to snap her fingers, her feet moving almost of their own volition. One of the things she loved best about Mexico were the dances that were so much a part of the culture, of the peόnes and the gauchopines alike, peasants losing themselves in the music as much as the aristocrats.

To her surprise, Steve did join her in the dance, his lean body supple and controlled, matching her steps with an expertise she had forgotten. Oh, it was just like Steve to try to match her, and she danced until she was breathless, until even the musicians were ready to stop.