“What is this in my palace?” The commanding voice cut through the crowd as if a hot knife through butter, parting them to make a path as Presidente Porfirio Díaz strode to the two men. “A quarrel? Between my Spanish envoy and my so excellent ambassador? This will not do, gentlemen, for we must not start my term off with violence. It has been too long since we have had peace in Mexico, and there should be peace now.”

A murmur ran through the crowd, approving but with an undercurrent of excitement and disappointment that the show had been momentarily quelled. Still wary, his muscles tense with the need for violence, for vengeance against the man who had sent him once more to the hell of the mines while he toyed with his wife, Steve managed a courteous nod.

“It will be as you wish it, of course, Your Excellency.”

Díaz smiled. “We have been comrades in arms for far too long for me to believe that you will submit so meekly, Esteban, but I will accept your promise that you will not fight with General Luna here or today, eh? Now come, where is your beautiful wife? She has not come to see me as she promised me she would. I hope that she is feeling much better now that her illness has passed. Is she here with you?”

Steve’s jaw set. Ginny, trembling visibly, gave him a beseeching glance as she stepped forward when he didn’t reply to the president’s query.

“I—I am here, Your Excellency. Many pardons for my absence of late. As you mentioned I have been—indisposed.”

“Of course, of course. Now that you are once more well and we are all in a better mood, we shall celebrate! General Luna, do not be so distant. Come. Tell me news of Spain.”

Though he seemed congenial enough, there was a steely undercurrent to his tone that left no room for dissent. Luna bent an ironic bow in Steve’s direction, swept Ginny with a glance and accompanied Díaz as he moved away.

Ginny. She didn’t move but stood there watching him, slanted green eyes slightly wary. The seductive gown clung to her body, skirts parting with her movements to give a glimpse of her legs. It was a cortesana’s gown.

The tension that had gripped Steve for the past hundred miles was slow to ease. His muscles were taut, his nerves and temper on edge. Ginny was alive, unharmed, staring at him with brimming eyes, but all he could think at the moment was that he was too tired to give her the explanations that she deserved. Not now. There would be time enough later.