Still, this was love, and love (and lust) conquered all. So we climbed aboard the Harley and motored north on the A82, the howling wind in our hair, Brandy's nibbling on my earlobe driving me wild.

Brackla is a small hamlet located along the Loch's northwestern shore, approximately halfway between Drumnadrochit and Lochend. Its draw is the Clansman, the only hotel (save for Angus's new resort) situated directly on the banks of Loch Ness. The facility has twenty-eight suites, all offering panoramic views of the Loch, along with large dining rooms and halls that have hosted many a wedding and Scottish dinner dance.

Situated directly behind the Clansman Hotel was a rectangular inlet that served as a docking area for Loch Ness. Brandy's boat, the Nessie III, was tied off at the end of one of the piers. As we crossed over the wooden boardwalk that led to her berth, I could feel trepidation rising in my gut.

"So Zachary? What dae ye think?"

"That depends. What happened to the Nessie I and II?"

"Oh, the monster ate them," she teased, rubbing my groin.

I felt queasy. "Brandy, why don't we go back to the lodge and—"

"Come on, I'll give ye the tour." Ignoring my objections, she took my hand and dragged me aboard, reciting more obscure facts she had learned from her correspondence course. "Did ye know butterflies taste wi' their feet?"

White-washed wooden benches, set parallel to one another and nailed to the main deck, ran the length of the deck. Forward was the wheelhouse, its entry framed by a pair of doors. One guarded a sea toilet and sink, the other led below deck to Brandy's private quarters.

Fear pounded in my pulse as Brandy coaxed me below, pointing out the engine room, her galley, and the refurbished bathroom. And then she led me forward into her cabin, slipped out of her sandals, and kissed me hard on the lips.

Her Scotch-laced tongue flitted in my mouth as her hand unzipped the fly of my pants. I fumbled like an orangutan with the back of her bra, the clasps of which must have been welded shut.

"Let me." She reached behind her back and freed her breasts.

For a precious moment, my desire overcame my phobia… until the boat rose and dropped beneath a half-dozen wakes and the fear rose again in my gut, tossing ice water over my hard-on.

I jumped as she unbuckled my pants. "Brandy, wait, I… I can't do this."

"Why?" she purred. "Did yer knob perish on the Sargasso, too. Perhaps I'll have tae resuscitate it, yeah?"

"No!" My mind raced like a demon, not wanting a repeat of what had happened on South Beach. "I mean, your father… it's your father. He'll know I stayed with you tonight."

"Since when do you give a shyte what my old man thinks?"