Paco cleared his throat. “I believe he is on his way to San Antonio. He said you would know what to do.”

Steve swore again, long and feelingly, angry that he had not been warned about Luna a month ago. “If Rafael Luna harms one hair on her head, I won’t give a damn about diplomatic relations with Spain.”

Time had not improved the road between Mexico City and Zacatecas. The beaten-down ribbon of dirt snaked through San Luis Potosí and Salinas and up to the province of Zacatecas. If Luna had gone that way, it was possible Steve could head them off. He knew the land like the back of his hand, had been exploring the arroyos and flat-topped ridges since he was a boy.

Steve let his horse set the pace. It would be a grueling ride, and he was pretty sure he knew where Luna was headed. It was unlikely he would do anything to Ginny until he reached his destination. He’d be too pressed for time, knowing that he was pursued.

Green-eyed gypsy—his love, his life. It had all been a mirage, an illusion…his assumption that he could keep her safe from harm a dangerous fiction. He’d failed her, and he had failed himself. It made him nauseous, reminded him that he couldn’t control everything, that there were times he’d lose. It was humiliating and humbling. It was frightening.

How could he face her again, with the knowledge of his failure between them? Christ, he’d chased her across half of Mexico and even the world at times, angry with her, too damn stubborn to admit even to himself that he loved her. But he had never once considered that he might lose her with his arrogance.

He remembered Concepciόn’s wailing lament so long ago when he had ridden after Ginny, a futile noble gesture to save Ginny. “He goes for her, that green-eyed woman.”

It seemed that he was always going after Ginny, always trying to catch her.

Would he never learn to hold her tightly?

34

It was cold that high up in the mountains, and Ginny shivered beneath the thin blanket draped over her shoulders. Rafael Luna seemed quite comfortable, even lighthearted as he sat by a fire built under an overhang of rock.

“As a soldier, I learned survival in any situation, chica, so do not worry that I cannot properly care for you out here. Of course I can. It is not so bad, eh? We will be at the end of our journey soon enough, once I am certain we are being followed.”

“You want us to be followed?”