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'I don't want to know,' she had said, when he had tried to identify hiain What would be the point?'

No woman had ever said that to Gianluca Raffacani be¬fore No woht stand The shock of such treaterness in his bed had seemed to disprove the dis¬missive words on her lipsuntil he'd wakened in the early hours and found his one with her And then Luca had simply not been able to credit that some unscrupulous little tart had con¬trived to rip hi ease

His ht in Venice al like salt in an open wound, Luca surveyed the closed file labelled 'Darcy Fielding' on his library desk, his chiselled features chillingly cast With the cool of a self-discipline renowned in the world of in¬ternational finance, he resisted the temptation to rip open the file like an i tier 'It is her this timeyou're sure?' he prompted softly

Even swollen with pride as Benito was at finally suc¬ceeding in his search, even convinced by the facts that he had to have the right wo with uncertainty Although the woman he had identified matched every slender clue he had started out with, by no stretch of his ihly sophisticated eht of passion with the feraph

'I will only be sure when you have recognised her, sir,' Benito admitted tautly

'You're backtracking, Benito' With a rueful sigh that signified no great hope of satisfaction, Luca Raffacani reached out a deceptively indolent brown hand and flipped open the file to study the picture of the woe

As Luca tensed and a frown grew on his strong dark face, setting his pure bone structure to the cold consistency of granite, Benito paled, suddenly convinced that he had e sported worn jeans, Wellington boots, a battered rain-hat and alady than gorgeous seductress

'I've been too hasty—'

'She's cut off her hair' his erowl

After a convulsive s, Benito breathed tautly, 'Are you saying thatit is the same woman?'

'Was she got up like this for a fancy dress party?'

'Signorina Fielding was feeding hens when that was taken,' Benito supplied apologetically 'It was the best the photographer could o out much'

'Hens?' Be his aristocratic ebony brows, Luca continued to scan the photo with hard, dark deepset eyes 'Yet it is her Without a doubt, it is herthe devious little thief who turned me over like a professional!'

Darcy Fielding had stolen a , a museum piece, an irreplaceable heirlooes To mark the occasion of the birth of his son, the very first principe had given his wife, Adorata, theYet in spite of that rich fae, and the considerable value of the jewel, the police had not been informed of the theft Initially stunned by such an omission, Benito had since be¬come less surprised