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Her stomach clenched as she pictured the lean angles of his face, startling blue eyes framed in black lashes, those broad shoulders and soft large hands.  She felt again those hands stroking her back, his tongue in her mouth.  God he was a fast mover.  Was she ready for that passion?  Alternatively, would he think her too easy?  All she knew was her body was on fire for him. It almost frightened her. Douglas could seduce with just one flash of those incredible eyes. 

***

Jessie was glad of the sloppy sun hat, the wide brim shading her face, the cool tank top and mini denim shorts ideal for the weather. Underneath she wore a scarlet bikini.  The emerald
one
was too sexy.  Douglas was raunchy enough without turning him on with a skimpy string top and thong.

He strode along by her side, dressed in an unbuttoned pale blue shirt and jeans with a slick leather belt.   She felt herself responding to the black bristles on his chest and toned torso.  He had automatically held her hand whilst carrying a picnic basket with towels slung around his neck. 

P
assing the glass framed building on their left, he said, ‘The Orangery was built in around eighteen hundred.  They were all the rage then. They actually grew pineapples and oranges there along with some exotic flowers.’

‘Hmm.  It’s huge.’

They had plenty of money, squandered it really.  Now watch your head, we’ll cut through these trees.  That’ll bring us out on the Ha Ha.

‘The Ha Ha? Never heard of that before.’

‘In the large estates, they kept sheep or cattle that fed on the grounds, so they put them in fields some distance from the Manor, the ditch was to keep them from wandering on to the lawns and gardens of the house.  Sometimes it was used as a deer leap as well.’

‘I shall have to remember that – makes for a great conversation piece.’

‘Uh uh, watch your step now’

He helped her climb down into the ditch, catching her in strong arms, holding her close as he nuzzled her neck and nipped her ear.  Laughing she struggled, but gave into a deep kiss. She felt her stomach ripple in response, as his tongue met hers. Laughing he almost carried her up the ditch.  She froze as she reached the top.  ‘They’re not cows. They're bison.’

‘Yep. Don’t worry we’ll skirt along here; it will bring us out onto the path.’

She clutched his hand out of fear.  Could one of those great beasts make a run at them, topple down the ditch after them?  ‘No I can’t. I just can’t go near them.’

‘It’s okay; we’re going through this electrified gate; it will take us to the bog.’

So this was his idea of a romantic afternoon?

Seeing her startled look he said, ‘Don’t worry I know the path.’

She laughed, ‘In my
dream; I
was really getting sucked into the mud.’

‘Follow behind, it’s not very wide, but it’s dry.

Walking behind him, she looked down to see her sneakers covered in mud.  So much for a dry path.  Douglas trudged on ahead oblivious of her slipping and slithering behind him.

She frowned as she called out ‘So you call this dry?’ 

He shouted back, ‘You’ll get used to Scotland. It's a wet land
,
but beautiful.  Ah here we are – the lake.’

As Jess caught up with him, she felt reality slipping away.   ‘I’ve been here in my dreams for so many years.’ she said, ‘I can hardly believe it.  The grassy bank, the minute sandy beach, the bulrushes, reeds, everything is the same. All I need now is for Duncan and Muriall to appear.’  As she gazed, reality merged with dream. She felt cold, lost.

Catching her mood, Douglas caught her to him, ‘It must be quite a shock to dream of something and then find it’s real.  Come on, have something to drink.’  Laying out the blanket on the bank, he opened the picnic box handing her a cold bottle.

Jess took it gratefully holding the icy glass to her forehead. He seemed much more relaxed when talking about the two dream lovers.

‘Truth is
Jess; I've
got a thing about water – lakes. Okay to look at, but not to go in.’

Realizing he felt awkward, that perhaps he had a phobia of water, she said nothing but began peeling off her top and pulling off the denim shorts.  Douglas whistled as he gazed at the slender figure with the full breasts held up by a band of scarlet silk, it was evident she’d had a bikini line strip.  God, he felt his arousal immediately, aware it would make its presence known in seconds.   He was thankful he had the towel in his lap. Christ if he didn’t have the damn phobia, he‘d be running into the cold water right now.

Jess aware of his reaction smiled inwardly.  Turning sideways to him, she nonchalantly walked to the bulrushes. 

Douglas watched her pick her way through them, parting the tall reeds to dip her toe in the water.  He heard her shout, ‘God it’s freezing.’

Jess waded further until the freezing water reached her thighs. Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward her arms stroking through the water. She felt the sun on her back warming her, the water feeling quite temperate.  It was glorious.  The only thing missing was him by her side. She’d even had the wicked idea they could have played out here, touching, grabbing, kissing, wrapping her legs around his waist, her fingers playing with the dark hairs bristling on his chest.  What was wrong with him?  He definitely feared the water.  Was it a phobia? Had he nearly drowned before?  Had someone near to him drowned? Alternatively, was there a boating accident?  Swimming to the centre of the lake, she floated on her back watching a humming bird fly overhead, its green feathers sparkling, the long blue beak iridescent in the sun. 

Her thoughts returned to
Douglas; it
must be a phobia. But, it couldn’t be. He said he loved coming to the lake, spent his time chilling out here. Anything to do with lakes should be an anathema to him; even a picture or talking about one would arouse symptoms of panic.  It was strange. If it was a phobia, then it was a nasty one, a primeval fear, a fear that could lead to psychotic states. Would he talk to her about it?

CHAPTER
2
3

Douglas wanted to join her, but the damn phobia stopped him.  He knew the panic would hit like a canon ball exploding on site.  First paralysis, then fixed eyes, the fight for breath, knees buckling.  Oh yes, with more to come, sweat pouring from his forehead, stuttering when he tried to speak.  He felt and looked like an idiot. She was a psychologist okay, but would she want an affair with a candidate for a locked ward?  

Anyone who’s suffered a panic attack will remember that first time it happened. It hits without warning, no prior twinges, fears. The victim could be in a restaurant just about to pick up their knife and fork, or at the checkout, starting up the car, about to take a dive into a swimming pool; anywhere.  Then the game begins, hiding it, not allowing anyone to see the symptoms, avoiding places or things where it might erupt like Vesuvius vomiting lava on unsuspecting villages.  Trouble is with this game, there are only two players, the panic attack and the victim.   People even think of their panic as a living entity that attacks with claws and teeth, without mercy.

Only Nat understood the depths of his panic, his terror of putting his foot into a lake.  It was like asking someone with a fear of heights to walk near the edge of a cliff, or someone with claustrophobia to crawl through collapsing caves. This was the only lake where he felt safe.  Nat said it could be because the bulrushes hid the water, or maybe because the bank was so far away from the edge, whatever it was; he had this sense of belonging, security, even peace. Nowadays, the thought of walking into a lake could bring on the first stirrings of the panic attack; that’s when he had to move quickly. He couldn’t let her know. He wanted to be in her bed
,
not on her therapy couch.  

Douglas caught his breath as she walked through the bulrushes, looking like a pre-Raphaelite water sprite, the strands of scarlet hair glistening on wet skin, beads of water dripping down long thighs. Picking up a towel, he waited for her, draping the towel around her shoulders, rubbing her back and arms. Twisting her round to face him, his fingers swiftly untied the thin strip of silk covering the rounded curves. As Jess gasped, he picked her up and took her to the bank and the blanket.

As he laid her down he said, ‘I wish this was a bed of silk and satins, for that is what you deserve.’

‘You sound like a poet.’

‘At times like this I wish I was.  I struggle for words to describe you, your skin as soft as a rose petal, your hair like liquid rubies, your figure a Grecian Aphrodite.  That’s just about as much as I can manage.’ 

She looked at him, his naked upper body, like a painting of an Italian God; the chiselled features lightly beaded with perspiration, his hair blue black in the sun. How could she resist him?  She quivered as his hands stroked and massaged, her breath quickening, as she saw the craving in those electric blue eyes. Responding, she pushed into his body, curves flowing into angles as he stroked her back, his hand sliding down to her buttocks pulling her towards him. She wriggled nearer, playing with the wet locks of ebony hair curling on his shoulders. Her hands followed the bulge of his arm muscles; iron hard, whilst her fingers pulled lightly
at
the black curls
on
the broad chest, his nipples hard to her touch. He brushed aside the trailing red locks, to kiss her slender neck, nipping at her ears until she squealed. Finding her mouth, he tasted the honey sweetness, smelling the lavender, her favourite flower.

Her blood thudded in her
head; she
wanted this, but it wa
s
too
soon; she'd
nev
er
had sex with
anyone on the first
date; he'd
t
h
ink she was fast and loose.  Dra
wing
away f
rom him,
she
whispered,
‘Too soon – let’s take this—‘

His lips covered her protests, his strong hands drawing her into
him; she
felt the hardness of his pecs against her breasts, the soft brush of his hair.  She shuddered as his lips now fo
u
nd her nipple hardeni
n
g to his touch.  G
roaning,
she gave in, wh
a
t the
hell, he was
gorgeous; it
was
hot,
and she wanted
him.  H
e
r hands went to his back, her nails slightly raking the hard flesh.  She heard his gasp, ‘Darling – I
want you
– so
bad.’  He returned to her nipples
,
now dr
a
wing one into his
mouth, his tongue flicking a
round the
aureole. 
H
is hands g
round
the flesh at her waist,
before
tr
a
velling down to he
r
buttocks, massaging, dr
a
wing her to his hardness.  She res
p
onded arching towards
him; She
f
elt
his knee between her legs widening them as he
lowered himself on
her.  Lifting
himself on
his hands his t
ongue
licked and flicked down f
rom
breasts to the navel
t
ickling and
teasing
,
before go
i
ng lower. She was
los
t
– lost
to everyt
h
ing
but his tongue, his hands, her
ne
e
d to have him inside her, t
o
feel the long shaft penetrate. 

Douglas gazed down at her quivering body, at the mo
ist
lips, the hard
e
ned nipples.  He wanted her right there and then but
he
wanted
to
please her, to
bring her
to the edge of
ecstasy before pen
e
trating.  His fingers moved
slowly
to soft tri
a
ngle of curls slipping insi
de
velvet folds
. F
inding the nub he st
roked
gently q
uickening his
pace, rising to kiss her lips. Urgently, she pulled him back down, her sighs and gasps driving him insane, he wanted her - body and soul.
F
eel
i
ng her
stiffen, he touched her with the tip of his member, saw her lift those curving hips to him. No longer able to withstand it, he growled, penetrating,
his shaft fill
i
ng her. Mov
i
ng rhythmically he
lifted her buttocks towards him, p
enetrat
ing
deeper
p
us
h
ing against her
. H
er legs l
ocked
a
round him
, her inner muscles clenc
h
ing, ho
l
ding him tight. 
Hea
ring
her cry
out,
he moved  faster,
lost in
her, in her beauty, her love as he took her to ecsta
s
y.