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….