hair and her pale northern European skin, the sharp cheekbones, the full mouth. There was a sensuality in the way she moved that seemed cultivated and yet guileless. She looked down her small nose in such a haughty manner it made him want to rattle that air of confidence. Yet now he came to look at her again, her hands clasped so tightly together, her shoulders so straight, he had the distinct impression that she was barely holding herself together.
And little wonder! She had scant idea why she was here or what was required of her. What was he thinking, allowing himself to become so distracted when he had been impatiently counting the days and hours waiting for this very moment to arrive? Luca set his empty cup and saucer down on the table. ‘To business, Miss Wickes. Or may I call you Rebecca?’
‘I much prefer Becky.’
Most decidedly she was nervous and trying desperately not to show it. ‘Becky.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘It suits you. And you must call me Luca.’
‘Luca. Does that mean lucky?’
‘Actually it means light, but I hope that you will bring me luck, Miss Becky Wickes.’
For some reason, his words made her glower. ‘Before you say any more, I should tell you what I’ve already made very clear to The Procurer. I won’t play cards, straight or crooked, just to win you a fortune.’
‘Did not The Procurer make it very clear that wasn’t at all what I required?’ Luca asked, taken aback by her vehemence. ‘Do I look like a man of meagre means?’
She flinched, for his tone made it clear enough that he’d found her implication offensive, but she did not back down. ‘You look like a man of very substantial means,’ she said, gazing around the room, ‘but I’ll play no part in making you even richer.’
‘I don’t want you to make me rich, Becky. I want you to make another man destitute.’
Some might say it was the same thing. Not this surprising woman. She uncrossed her arms, frowning, leaning forward in her chair, ignoring the glossy curl that fell over her forehead. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’
‘Oh, I have every reason,’ Luca said, the familiar wave of anger making his mouth curl into a sneer. ‘He killed my father.’
Becky’s mouth fell open. She must have misheard him. Or his otherwise excellent English had deserted him. Though the way he had snarled the words made her wonder if he had known exactly what he had said. ‘Killed? You don’t really mean killed?’
‘I mean exactly that. My father was murdered. I intend to make the man responsible pay.’
Becky stared, quite staggered. ‘But if it was murder, then surely the law...’
‘It is not possible. As far as the law is concerned, no crime has been committed. I cannot rely on the law to deliver justice for my father, I must provide that myself. With your assistance.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Becky muttered softly under her breath, as much at the transformation in her host as his words. There was a cold fury in his eyes, a bleak set to his mouth. ‘When you say justice...’
‘I do not mean an eye for an eye,’ he replied with a smile that made her shiver. ‘This is not a personal vendetta. It is a question of honour, to put right the wrongs inflicted, not only on my father, but on our most beloved city. Also to avenge a betrayal of the very worst kind, for the man who had my father killed was his best friend.’
Becky stared at the man opposite, utterly dumbfounded. Vengeance. Honour. Righting wrongs. ‘The Procurer didn’t tell me any of this—did she know?’
‘Si. It is part of her—her terms,’ Luca replied. ‘What is required and why. She promises complete discretion. I am relieved to discover that she is a woman of her word.’
His Italian accent had become more pronounced. He was upset. His father had been murdered, for heaven’s sake, of course he was upset! ‘I’m very sorry, perhaps I’m being slow, but I’m afraid I’m none the wiser.’
Across from her, Luca let out a heavy sigh, making an obvious effort to relax. ‘It is I who should apologise. It is such a very painful subject, I did not anticipate finding myself so—so affected, talking about it.’
‘Would you like another cup of tea?’ Becky said, completely at a loss as to how to respond.
Luca gave a snort of laughter. ‘Tea. You English think it is the cure for everything. Do not be offended. I am not laughing at you, but you will admit, it is funny.’
‘I suppose it is,’ Becky said, simply relieved to have lightened the tension in him. ‘You don’t mind if I have a second cup?’
‘Please.’
She could feel his eyes on her as she took her time pouring, adding milk, wondering what the devil she was to make of what he’d told her. She took a sip, and he smiled at her again, a warm smile that made her wonder if she’d imagined that formidable stranger.
‘I have been so anxiously waiting your arrival,’ he said, ‘so eager to execute my plan, that I forget you know nothing at all. Naturally, you want to ask questions.’
‘But I’ve no right to ask them,’ Becky said, remembering this belatedly. ‘You don’t need to explain yourself, only tell me what it is you require me to do. I’m remembering, don’t worry, that the fee you’ll pay guarantees my unswerving loyalty.’
Luca got to his feet, leaning his forehead on the glass of one of the tall windows, staring out at the canal. After a few moments’ contemplation, he turned back to face her. ‘This is probably going to sound foolish, but I’d much prefer that you helped me because you wanted to, than because you were obliged to.’
‘But I am obliged to, if I’m to earn my fee.’
He held out his hand, inviting her to join him at the window. Outside, it was growing dark, the light a strange, iridescent silver, so that she couldn’t tell what was water and what was sky. ‘My plan requires you to play cards against this man for very high stakes. He is a powerful and influential figure in Venice. He has also demonstrated that he is prepared to be ruthless. It is not without risk. Did The Procurer explain this to you?’
‘She told me if I didn’t like the set-up I could return to England, no questions asked. I won’t be caught, if that’s what you’re concerned about,’ Becky said, dismayed to discover that she didn’t feel anywhere near as confident as she sounded. If Jack hadn’t given the game away, she wouldn’t have been discovered, but it seemed none the less that he’d stolen a bit of her confidence as well as her heart.
‘You’ll be in disguise, of course,’ Luca said. ‘It is Carnevale.’
‘Carnevale?’
‘Carnival. You haven’t heard of it? It is the only time of the year in Venice when gambling is permitted—or at least, when a blind eye is turned. You’ll be wearing a mask and a costume, like everyone else. You will be Regina di Denari, The Queen of Coins, named after one of our Venetian card suits. I thought it was most appropriate, though if you have another suggestion?’
‘Regina di Denari...’ she repeated, savouring the sound of it in Italian. ‘I think it’s perfect. So that’s the part
