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‘I’m not frightened.’ Shauna lifted her chin, ‘but we shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘You’re very beautiful, Shauna. I think I might be falling in love with you.’

‘You don’t mean that. I can’t, Demetrios.’ She stood up and smoothed down her shorts. ‘I need to get back to work.’ With that she ran across the deck and down the stairs without a backward glance.

Chapter 9

Shauna threw herself into her work for the rest of the day, avoiding the other crew members and Demetrios. That night, she found that, like him, that she couldn’t sleep. The memory of how she’d felt when he touched her lit a fire in her mind. Luckily, she was distracted as in the morning they would finally be docking in Ithos, and she was eager to see it. Though she knew that matters with Demetrios were complicated beyond measure, she still wanted to see the place that meant so much to him, in the hope it would give her some insight into the real man.

The yacht was easily the largest in the whole port. It nosed slowly into the furthest berth, which had been specially constructed for the St Helena. As they approached the island, Shauna was aware of Demetrios on the sun deck high above her, but she deliberately avoided looking his way. The island was every bit as beautiful as he’d said. White-painted buildings tumbled down the steep hillside towards the harbour, their walls so brilliant in the bright sunshine that she had to squint to look at them. Rising behind them, scrubby green shrubs were scattered across the sandy soil, covering the hills which were outlined against the deep azure sky. Not a cloud marred the perfect horizon over the sea, where diamond-bright light skipped across the bobbing waves.

She studied the pretty sand-coloured stone-built harbour with its wooden-shuttered tavernas and vine-clad terraces. A few people were sitting at tables in the shade and she longed to be up there, enjoying a moment’s solitude while she mulled over all that had happened. Living cheek by jowl on a busy yacht was beginning to take its toll and she was delighted that the crew were to be given a much-needed break.

Once every surface was spick and span, the perishable food divvied up, the engines shut down and the boat secured, the crew disembarked with their luggage and were immediately besieged by a group of young boys, all arms and legs and enthusiasm, chirping like baby birds: ‘Cheap, cheap taverna. Come. Come.’

Smiling at them all, she was at a loss as to how she could choose one boy as a guide without upsetting the rest.

Jeremy took pity on her and intervened. ‘Hold your horses,’ he told the boys, then turned to Shauna. ‘How much can you afford to pay?’

After a minute’s haggling with a wiry, dark-eyed boy, he settled on an acceptable rate for the night. ‘There you go, Shauna. You might find you want to move on after one night,’ he warned her. ‘It will be basic, but bigger than your cabin.’

‘Anything’s bigger than my cabin,’ she grinned. ‘Thanks for helping me out.’

‘No problem. Are you sure you’ll be OK? You don’t want to come with us?’

‘No. I fancy staying put and exploring for a while. This is my first time in Greece.’

‘Well, enjoy. See you in a week’s time.’

She picked up her backpack, hefted it on her shoulder and without a backward glance at the yacht set off after the boy, who watched her like a lion determined that his prey shouldn’t get away. But with each step she found herself longing for the familiarity and safety of the St Helena. She wasn’t entirely sure she was built for adventure on her own.

The room above Níko’s taverna was small, and it had a tiny balcony looking out over the harbour. Dropping her bag on the bed, she pushed back the faded blue shutters and leaned on the iron balustrade gazed at the view, almost laughing out loud at the antics of a couple of elderly men making their battered fishing boat bob up and down as they argued about something, gesticulating wildly. Below her she could hear the low, murmured conversations of people in the taverna and the clink of cutlery. Her room was sparse but clean and she had the use of a bathroom shared with two other rooms which were currently empty. Níko, the owner, had already brought up a plate of stuffed vine leaves, a half-bottle of retsina and a bottle of water. He spoke excellent English and had fallen on Shauna with great delight as soon as she opened her mouth. He’d worked in Dublin for a few years in his twenties and as far as he was concerned Shauna might have been his long-lost daughter. His enormous moustache twitching with delight, he had called his wife and daughter to come meet the Irish colleen. Even though she’d only been to Dublin twice in her life, he assumed she knew it intimately and asked if Paddy and Maureen still ran O’Donoghue’s on Merrion Row and whether the bakery on Thomas Street still sold his favourite soda bread.

Being on land for the first time in a week felt odd and everything seemed to sway in a disconcerting way, but Shauna was ready to explore her new surroundings. Níko had told her that the best beach on the island was only a short walk away. With the day promising to be a hot one, she set out with her swimming costume, a towel and one of the bottles of water. En route she passed a few tourist shops and treated herself to an English newspaper, a large shady straw hat and a new bottle of high-factor sun cream to protect her pale skin. From under the brim of her hat, she sat quite happily on the beach people-watching for most of the afternoon, not feeling as lonely as she’d thought she might. She took after her dad like that; she’d always been quite happy with her own company.

Smiling at the children playing noisily in the water, she gazed out at the turquoise blue of the sea. At one end, the little horseshoe bay finished with a steep bank of rocks rising to a high cliff overlooking the beach. Now she was on her own, she had more time to think. Confusion dogged her. Had she overreacted the previous day? Demetrios had stopped as soon as she’d asked him to; she hadn’t exactly been fighting him off.

She put the paper away in her bag and lay down for a doze in the sun, her mind already running away to a distant imaginary landscape where she was able to kiss Demetrios with languorous pleasure without having to worry.

On her return, Níko insisted that she come down to the taverna at seven o’clock for dinner.

‘I will reserve the best table in the house for you.’ He beamed at her and she smiled back as she climbed the stairs that curved up the side of the building up to her room and a very welcome cool shower where she washed the salt and sand away from her skin and let the water flow through her hair. Afterwards she sipped a glass of beer on the balcony while watching tourists disembark from a tour boat. It looked as if plenty of alcohol had been involved as they were all in high spirits. A couple wrapped themselves around each other, leaning against the harbour wall, kissing without inhibition, completely oblivious to everyone around them. She envied them their lack of self-consciousness, remembering the pleasure that Demetrios’s kisses had brought her.

At seven o’clock, wearing the one dress she’d brought with her, feeling Níko’s kindness deserved it, she slipped down the stairs to the taverna.

‘My Irish despoinída! Come, come.’ Prancing ahead of her like a delighted show pony, with a touch of pompous pride that made her smile, he skirted around the main dining area and led her up a small flight of steps to a pretty terrace under a pergola laden with clouds of pink and orange bougainvillea. With a picture-perfect view of the harbour, it held three tables discreetly separated by olive trees in large pots. The aromatic scent of scores of rosemary bushes bursting from window boxes on the balcony filled the air.

‘Please.’ Níko pulled out a chair at a table set for two with a candle already burning in a delicate white china votive. She lowered herself into the seat, grateful for Níko’s gallant ministrations. He was very sweet and this was all very romantic, but she felt a bit silly sitting out here on her own. He fussed over her, bringing her a menu, a complimentary glass of retsina and brushing a stray leaf from the table. Then he bustled off. She opened the menu, resolving to ask him when he came back if she could move into the main dining room, where she’d have people to watch instead of sitting out here on her own.

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’

Her heart leapt into her mouth at the familiar deep voice. ‘Demetrios!’

‘Would you mind?’ The diffident question made her smile expand with sudden joy. Couldn’t he see the light in her eyes, her hands shaking on the menu?

Unable to say anything, she shook her head and took in every delicious detail of him as he lowered himself into the chair opposite. He raised an eyebrow at her choice of wine.

‘I think we can do better than that.’ Without him uttering a word, Níko appeared. He threw his arms around the younger man and the two greeted each other like long-lost brothers, talking rapidly in Greek, none of which she could understand. Whatever Demetrios had said, Níko quickly snatched her glass away and hurried off.