Twilight Embrace (Completed)

Chapter 2

It was a sultry, steaming hot evening.  The rain clouds rolled across the moonlit sky.  She chose a different place from which to enter the lake this evening.  Dropping her sarong to the ground she waded waist-deep into the water, her senses heightened from the smell of the impending rain. The approaching storm excited her as she dived under the water. Surfacing on her back, the moonlight glistened on her naked body.  She floated for ages like this as she watched the forks of lightning spear through the heavy rain clouds.

A fierce clap of thunder brought her upright and she suddenly realized how far she had drifted, now facing the pathway towards the cottage.  Her keen eyesight caught a glimpse of the yellow rose in the window.  She noticed the French doors were open and it was well after midnight.  But she knew he would not be swimming tonight, not with the storm rolling in over the mountains.

Thunder drummed across the sky, chasing the lightning into the clouds.  The heavens opened and released floods of raindrops, fiercely pounding everything they touched.

She stepped lightly from the water, making her way through the icy cold rain which had no effect on her already chilled skin.  She kept to the shadows of the trees as she silently edged her way towards the cottage, keeping a safe distance so as not to be seen.

Suddenly he was in the open doorway, pulling the doors closed, shutting out the storm.  She froze where she stood and could not bring herself to move out of his vision.  A bolt of lightning creased the heavens turning night into day, for just an instant.  She saw him hesitate with his hand on the blinds.  Had he seen her?  She dare not move.  She could see him peering out into the dark.  She remained rooted to the spot, a motionless statue.  He seemed to stare in her direction …………The rain, now heavier, the sky darker, the thunder and lightning rolling off into the distance, leaving an empty blackness all around her.  Had he seen her?  Surely not?  He had closed the blinds and she sensed he had moved away from the doors.

As she moved noiselessly away from the cottage she noticed his silhouette in the upstairs window.  She watched him from the safety of the shadows as he took off his shirt, his shadow imprinted on the blind.  It stopped her in her tracks as she watched his shadow moving around the room whilst he prepared himself for bed.  She sighed deeply as he turned out the light.  A longing she did not understand filled every part of her.

She sat in the shadows watching his window until she noticed the dawn breaking across the mountains. It was time for her to return home.  She sprang to her feet and with the agility of a deer ran through the trees and over the mountain on the east side of the lake.

A castle grey and ominous loomed ahead of her.  She entered by the Great Door, slowing her pace to a lazy walk. Her family was all at home.  Those who had been out all night were preparing for bed.  Some of the children were in the playroom. She stopped by the door for a moment to listen to their laughter and then headed upstairs to her room, tossing the robe she had taken from the hall closet as she came in, onto the chair in the corner of her room.

Her blinds were already closed, blocking out the sunlight.  She flopped onto her bed knowing any rest this day would elude her.  Thoughts of him filled her senses.  She pounded the pillows in anger.  How did she let herself become so affected by his scent?  A vision of him, gliding through the water in the moonlight filled her thoughts.  The droplets of water glistening like diamonds across his skin as he lay naked on the rocky outcrop in the lake.

This was not the first time she had seen him, watched him from a distance, with a longing she did not understand.  Her feelings grew stronger every time she saw him. She had first noticed him three years ago when he first swam in the lake at 3am in the morning.

He swam purposefully with strong angry strokes cutting through the water with determination. He had headed towards the rocky outcrop where she herself had been resting.  She had moved a distance away and hid beneath the water when she saw him approach.  He resembled a Greek God with a golden tan and jet black hair. Watching him pull himself onto the rocks, she marvelled at his beautiful naked form, glistening in the reflection of the moon. His muscles rippled as he moved over the rocks, firm, taught. Looking down his body she tried to avert her eyes from what was between his legs. Long and thick, she had not seen one before and she marvelled, a little shyly, at the way it moved and swung as he climbed onto the rocks.

Keeping a constant vigil of his midnight and occasional early morning swims, she had come to know every muscle. The vein that pounded in the side of his neck whenever he seemed stressed, the endless, deep blue of his eyes, the gentle sound of his breathing as he lay on his back and stretched out on the rocks.  These sensations she felt in the pit of her stomach every time she watched the droplets of water run down the length of his chest, across his firm stomach to where they disappeared into that fascinating place below, was foreign to her. She felt a longing and an ache in her loins that scared her at its intensity. In her imagination, time and again, she would trace the drops of water with her finger tip from where they started in the hollow of his neck down the centre of his chest to disappear in the hair between his very muscular legs. Here, in her imagination, her body shuddered with untouchable anticipation.

Two or three times a year, over three years now, she had watched him swim every day for ten days. And whenever he left, she felt empty and lost and yearned for his return.  But this was the first time she had ever dared make any form of contact with him.  Why now?  She could not answer that!  Maybe it was the excitement of the storm or seeing him again so unexpectedly; not his usual time of the year.

The first night, she had been surprised by his appearance at the lake and hurried away, forgetting her sarong, which had been picked up by the wind the night of the storm and tangled in the trees.

The second time she had been careless, leaving her sarong hanging in the tree.  She had floated on her back in the water, watching the lightning dancing across the sky, lost in her daydreams, losing track of distance and time.  She had drifted far from where she had entered.  Not wanting to retrace her steps for fear of being discovered, she had left her sarong to the fate of the storm.

She was surprised to find it neatly folded under the weight of a rock. Instinctively she had made a mad dash to the other side of the lake, where the wild roses grew, and picked one of her favourite yellow roses, a gesture of thanks.  Something she knew she should not have done, but did anyway.