He walked like the fog, on little cat feet, so lightly I didn’t hear him till he was right behind me. When I turned it was too late to get away. My back was against the rail and his arms, raised and ready, told me I wouldn’t get far if I tried to run. The moon was behind him; it glimmered in his hair but his face was in shadow.

His hands gripped my upper arms and pulled me towards him. He was so quick, and it was such an unexpected, damn-fool gesture, I didn’t react in time. I tried to raise my knee, but his body pressed mine against the rail, and my fists never made it as far as his face, they were caught between my breast and his as his arm went around my shoulders and pulled me close.

‘If you’re thinking of screaming, I’d strongly advise against it,’ he murmured.

‘Damn you,’ I whispered. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Someone will see – ’

He said something, in a voice so low and uneven I couldn’t make out the words, as his free hand slid into the open neck of my robe. Screaming was no longer an option. There wasn’t enough air in my lungs. The last of my breath mingled with his as his lips forced mine apart. I couldn’t free them; his fingers had moved from my breast to twist through my hair, and the pressure of his mouth held my head in the hard cradle of his hand. I knew – I had thought I knew – the strength of his hands and arms and lean body, but never before had he used it like this, uncontrolled and mindlessly demanding. Not against me . . .

He let me go so abruptly that only the rail behind me kept me from falling, and stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. I felt like a swimmer who has been underwater too long – ears ringing, legs straining, muscles limp. Gasping and shaking, I hung on to the rail until I got my breath back. I can swear in several languages, but I couldn’t think of any word in any of them that would be bad enough. ‘How long have you been married – two weeks?’

He turned slightly, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, but when he replied his voice was harsh and unsteady. ‘Monogamy is so dull. Why should I confine myself to one woman?’

‘She’s young and pretty and madly in love – ’

‘And wealthy,’ John said. ‘You don’t suppose I paid for those vulgar diamonds, do you?’

Every negative emotion I had ever felt for him – anger, contempt, hatred, loathing – boiled up in a sudden flood. My Scandinavian ancestors were prone to berserker rages, but this was the first time I’d ever experienced one. I hauled my arm back and let fly.