“You made a serious error if you thought my discovery of this child would entice me to your bed,” she told Luna, her tone icy. “Now I have little reason to want to find my husband.”

It wasn’t true, of course, and Luna must have sensed it for he only laughed. “Ah, but you will change your mind soon enough, Doña Genia, for being a woman, you will want to see his face when you tell him that you know, eh? Do not bother to deny it. I know the female mind well enough to suspect your purpose for being so angry and full of denials. Shall I tell you her name, perhaps, or do you wish to wait and ask your husband?”

Would putting a name to the betrayal really make it better? Or would it only engender more questions, more images of her with Steve? When Ginny hesitated, Luna smiled.

“Elizabeth Burneson. Her name was Cady when he knew her in New Mexico Territory. Now she is married, to a dull man who is most besotted with her, I am told, but then, he must be besotted to accept another man’s child as his own.”

“Perhaps he is only noble, Señor Luna, something you would not understand.”

“Would I not? Ah, perhaps you are right. I am so often puzzled by such men. Or the women who live with them until the man they really want comes back—which is what happens quite frequently, I have observed. But that will not happen this time, I am sure, for your husband is loyal to you now, and the children you have. He confides in you, yes? You are very certain of his love and fidelity, or you would be most dubious as to his reasons for running off to New Mexico Territory under the pretense of seeing an old friend again. I believe that was the reason he used last time, when he met this Elizabeth Cady….”

“Oh, stop it. Don’t you think me clever enough to see what you are trying to do? It won’t work. Steve and I have been through too much to allow silly doubts to come between us now, and I refuse to allow you, Señor Luna, to create suspicions between us. I will ask Steve about it when I see him again. That brings me to another question. When will you tell me where he is?”

“Why do you think I would know where your husband is?”

“Because it would appeal to your sick, twisted sense of justice to find out, to withhold the information from me. If you did not know, you wouldn’t be so certain I cannot find him.” Anger and frustration sharpened her voice, made it rise as she said, “For God’s sake, tell me! Stop playing your sadistic little game! What do you hope to gain from it?”