“When we get to Mexico,” he said abruptly, “I’m to leave you at my grandfather’s and go on to Mexico City.”

Ginny’s brow shot up. “For how long?”

“Not long, just long enough to see which side is going to come out the winner in this coup. From what I’ve learned, Lerdo is losing, but we can’t be certain until it’s over. My job is to find out all I can, then make sure the victor keeps the best interests of the United States in mind.”

“Was leaving me behind your idea or Bishop’s?”

Her chin came up in that familiar, stubborn tilt that always meant trouble, a defensive gesture that he recognized from long experience. She made him think of a wild forest creature, ready at a moment’s notice to flee or fight.

“Christ, Ginny, why would you ask me that?”

“It’s a reasonable question. You can’t pretend that all of your disappearances have been Bishop’s fault, after all. There were the times you wanted to disappear. Which is this? Am I to languish at your grandfather’s hacienda, waiting for you to come back—if you come back?”

A lift of her shoulder was casual and indifferent, but her green eyes burned with banked fires.

Steve knew what was worrying her. It had crossed his mind, too, the danger that was always inherent in a revolution, but there was little he could do about it. And even if he could, he wasn’t sure he would. Another revolution would drain Mexico of her resources, leave the country vulnerable again to her enemies. If Spain decided to take advantage, it would put them on America’s doorstep. Then both countries would be at risk.

He told himself these things, justifying his decisions, but there were times, like now, when he wondered if he was only fooling himself. In the past it had been the excitement and element of danger that attracted him. Was that still the reason? Was that the reason he’d been so restless lately, and frustrated by delays? He had thought he was ready to settle down now that he had a wife and two children he was only just getting to know?

Once, Ginny had accused him of deliberately flirting with danger, and he’d teased, “I guess I’ve just got a restless devil soul, sweetheart.”

Maybe that was still more true than he wanted to admit, even to himself.