A High Price to Pay by Sara Craven

Perhaps she'd
    drunk too much wine, she thought, or was suffering some strange
    reaction to the lobster. People said that, sometimes, shellfish affected

    you. Somehow she had to rationalise that pathetic, urgent little prayer
    which had come from nowhere.
    And, somehow, it had seemed essential to distance herself from Nick,
    the author of all this emotional confusion.
    Now she had to force herself to walk in silence beside him, her
    thoughts in turmoil.
    She was overreacting, she told herself desperately. That's what it was.
    She was letting the moonlight, and the candlelit dinner they'd just
    shared, and Nick's undeniable sexual charisma, affect her.
    She had thought she was immune, but now she knew she was not, and
    it was something she had to come to terms with. Something to beware
    of too.
    And that would undoubtedly be easier to do back at Ladymead, where
    they would be leading virtually separate lives anyway. She shivered
    slightly, drawing her wrap more closely around her. She knew the
    terms of the bargain she had made, with Nick. It had a black and
    white simplicity, so why, suddenly, did she feel so hopelessly
    confused?
    George was waiting with the boat at the bottom of a steep flight of
    steps. They were narrow and slippery, but Alison had negotiated
    them without difficulty on a number of occasions. Yet this time, as
    she tried to step across into the boat, her foot slipped, and with a little
    cry she found herself falling helplessly forward.
    Nick grabbed her, his arms like steel bands as he pinioned her against
    his body, her feet dangling ignominiously, her breathless face pressed
    into the curve of his shoulder.

    For an endless moment Alison was powerless in his arms, her small
    breasts crushed against the hard muscularity of his chest. She could
    breathe nothing but the warm, clean scent of his skin—feel nothing
    except this agonising intimacy of contact.
    Her startled fingers curled convulsively into bone and sinew, clinging
    like the claws of a kitten, as her whole being responded to his
    nearness with a long uncontrollable shudder of need and longing. She
    wanted to press herself closer still, experience the hardening arousal
    of his body against her slender thighs. She wanted to know that he
    shared with her this swift anguish of desire ...
    And instead, she felt herself set gently but firmly on her feet.
    His voice quiet against George's more vociferous expressions of
    concern, Nick asked, 'Are you all right?'
    'Yes, of course.' She put up a hand and pushed her hair back from her
    face, managing an artificial little laugh as she did so. 'I'm sorry, I'm
    not usually so clumsy. I must have had too much of Yanni's ouzo!'
    'It's lethal stuff.' His agreement was casual almost to the point of
    indifference, as he released her and turned away, and Alison drew a
    deep breath of relief.
    At least he hadn't known—hadn't recognised that sudden, shameful
    rush of feeling in her. She'd been spared that, at least. She sat silently
    in the bows and watched the solid bulk of Ariadne take shape out of
    the darkness. She couldn't wait to get back on board, she thought
    feverishly. It wasn't much of a refuge, but it was all she had.
    There was usually coffee waiting for them in the saloon, and little
    glasses of the liqueur tasting of tangerines she had grown to like over
    the past weeks, but tonight these were pleasures she would forgo, she
    thought. Being alone with Nick was something she needed to avoid.

    So she murmured some constrained excuse, and made off to the
    solitude of her stateroom. And tonight, for the first time, she turned
    the key in the lock, her hand trembling slightly as she withdrew it
    from the door. She was being ridiculous. All these weeks it had never
    occurred to her to lock herself in, so why now?
    As a safeguard, she told herself bitterly. An insurance against making
    a complete and abject fool of herself. Because that was the real
    danger.
    She undressed swiftly, and showered in the