Sophie was still struggling for breath even as she watched him gracefully slide her second boot from her foot, setting it aside upright, carefully, on the deck. She couldn't turn away, could hardly blink, as he gently pulled down her stocking – she was at a loss for words, frightened and filled with wonder.

She was used to Howl expressing his love for her in gestures, actions, but usually they came with a cheerful rush of words, a dazzling smile. This was one of the few times she could remember that he had touched her without a verbal explanation, and she felt uneasy looking down on him, his expression obscured by his long, raven hair. What was he thinking? Was he amused, or serious? Passionate, or calm?

She was frightened that she did not know.

He removed her second stocking, placing it carefully inside its boot, and then raised his eyes to her. She looked down into a smile so mysterious, she shivered; his eyes were calm but secretive, as if cunningly hiding some pleasant surprise.

She smiled back shakily, drawing her bare legs back into her skirts. The afternoon was fading away, and in response, the wind had grown cooler. The polished wood of the deck felt cold under her feet, her exposed skin white.

But what Sophie felt most at the moment was not the chill of the air. She couldn't stop running her eyes over Howl, realizing again and again, as if she had been wrong in first noticing it, that he wasn't wearing a shirt. She scanned every curve of pale skin, drawing it in hungrily, her heart quickening. She had seen him in various states of undress before, of course – as he emerged from a bath, and that dreadful episode with the green slime, when she'd carried him up the stairs – but never looked at him knowing that his clothes were not coming back on anytime soon. There were precious few times she'd touched his bare skin, and now, her heart raced – they had never done something like this before.

Howl reached his hand into her loosened collar, curving it around her throat and pulling her forward into a tender kiss. The warmth of his lips was deliciously hot in the cool air, and she shivered as he pulled away.

He noticed, rubbing her shoulder roughly to warm it.

"The water will be warmer," he said in a low voice, as if he were sighing it under his breath. "The sun's been beating on it all day."

She nodded, resisting the urge to kiss him again. He smiled that teasing smile, and stood briefly to move behind her, where he settled himself gently, and with purpose. Sophie watched him from the corner of her eye, just able to make out the outside strands of his raven hair flowing in the wind. She was confused for a moment, and then, when she felt his finger brush the back of her neck, realized what he was doing: releasing the buttons on the back of her dress.

She swallowed hard, trying to become as calm as he seemed to be. Button by button, she felt her dress loosen around her shoulders, felt the cool air creep in to chill her skin, and as each gust of wind passed, felt Howl's moist breath against the back of her neck, warm as the kiss.

Finally, he was finished, and he slid his hands over her shoulders, then down her arms, pulling the dress with them. Sophie pressed her eyes closed as it settled around her waist, shivering, then gasped as he embraced her from behind, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Are you cold?" he whispered into her ear, and she sighed, trembling despite herself, giving in and leaning her full weight back against him. She was suddenly very conscious of her chest heaving with her every breath, her breasts straining against her corset.

"Yes," she said, in a gasp of breath; and Howl hugged her tighter, pressing his warm lips to her cheek.

"We should get into the water, then," he said, again in that strange, calm voice. She made an odd noise in her throat, something like a strangled whimper, and in a moment he had stood, and was in front of her, offering her his hand.

She stood shakily, her feet unsteady on the deck, and followed as he pulled her toward the side of the boat. She looked down into the rich green-blue waters lapping against it, her eyes widening at the depths they seemed to conceal.

"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked quietly, tightening her grip on his hand. "You can swim, can't you?"

"I can fly," Howl said, a hint of laughter in his voice. She turned to him, surprised for a moment, so caught up was she in her fear; and then she smiled herself, relief flooding her. It was so good to see him laugh, as they always had.

"Silly me," she whispered, adverting her eyes shyly. She still eyed the water precariously, her smile fading as it became inevitable, what they were about to do.

"I'll count to three," Howl was saying, and she winced, focusing for the moment again on how handsome he was with his windswept hair, his confident expression and warm, eager eyes. "And then we'll jump together."

"Okay," she stammered, tightening her hold on his hand.

"One …"

Sophie shivered, her bare shoulders trembling. She hoped the water really was warm, as Howl had promised.

"Two …"

She was wearing white! White petticoats! What would Howl see when she got out of the water? She prayed he had a spell to dry her instantly. Or maybe he did, but wouldn't! But he wouldn't be such a pervert, would he?

"Three!"

She yelped, jumping instinctively as Howl's hand pulled her down toward the water. She closed her eyes tightly as it splashed around her, flooding her body in cool wetness, then gasped as she thrust her head up above it, sucking in air.

When she opened them, she saw Howl floating near her, his raven hair plastered black to his cheeks, his eyes flashing with excitement. He was laughing, and the deep, melodious sound reached her ears on the wind as if it had echoed from far-off, a great bell sounding.

She moved her legs tentatively, pushing them through her heavy, soaked petticoats. Her face and hair felt chilled, the cool wind blowing against the wetness to make it almost icy, but Howl had been right; the water was relatively warm, like a bath that had been sitting far too long.

"Sophie!" Howl yelled, splashing toward her so that he was scarcely a few feet away. "Sophie, are you all right?"

"It's not as cold as I thought," she replied, smiling a little despite herself. The water dripping down his face, his soaked, disheveled hair; altogether it was an amusing look for someone so vain.

But Howl was grinning, unaware of his looks.

"Oh," he said, his smile dazzling as the sun against the shifting waters, "That's too bad."

"And why is that?" Sophie asked, incredulous, her smile slipping away. "You wanted me to be frozen? Were you hoping I'd catch cold?"

"No," he said, still smiling mischievously. "But I was hoping you'd say you were cold, so that I could offer to make you warm again."

Her mouth fell open, and she shut it with pursed lips, color flooding her face. With widened eyes, she watched him close the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his body.

She instinctively, albeit hesitantly, wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head gently against his shoulder. She was finding it hard to breath again, and she gasped against the tightness of her corset, wishing once again that she could be calm, composed, to match her husband.

Howl's wet hair was silky against her lips, and she sighed, trembling as her emotions gradually cleared. The wind about them was cold, so cold, but his skin was warm, and she pressed her cheek against the curve of his neck, reveling in it.

Sophie could not remember having ever been this close to him. Her petticoats were heavy, soaked, but clung to her body almost as if they were a second skin, so that when she leaned into his bare chest, she could imagine, in the hazy back of her mind, that she wasn't wearing anything at all. In the water, they were weightless, and she reveled at the lack of gravity weighing them down. It reminded her of the day she had met Howl, when he had held her hands as they walked together across the sky, only now, they were no longer strangers, and almost perfectly still. The stillness made it obvious to her how effortlessly she could brush their ankles together, wrap her thighs around his waist.

She sighed gently, lusciously content. She wanted to stay in their embrace forever, only she wanted to be closer, and closer, and closer still, so that there would be nothing separating them. She wanted them to be seamless, and she pulled herself up against him, her chest pressed into his, her head cradled into his shoulder; only her legs drifted free.

Howl made a soft sigh in response, holding her firmly against him.

"I'm afraid," he said in a whisper, "That this isn't what I would call fun."

"This is better than fun," she mumbled in response. "This is perfect. I've never felt more … at peace. Like nothing could matter more than preserving this feeling; like nothing could disturb it."

She could feel him breathing against her, and her eyes fluttered open. All about them, the sea was calm, gently swaying them, as if rocking them to sleep. The sun was near to setting, illuminating the sky in pale shades of lavender and rose that reflected beautifully off the water, iridescent like the most vibrant pearl.

Compulsively, she kissed his neck, her lips pressing against a mix of silky wet hair and warm, salty skin.

"Howl," she sighed again, "I love you … so much. I wish we could never go back."

She pulled slightly away from him, only so that her head settled under his chin. He kissed her forehead warmly, letting her rest against him.

"We have the rest of our lives to come back," he said in a low, gentle voice, and then, "I love you as well."

Sophie made a soft, guttural sound in her throat, a whimper crossed with a tired sigh. She really didn't want it to stop, not really, but there was something inside her, something compelling and unbidden, that whispered to her that an embrace like this could be only the beginning.

"Howl," she said, not realizing that she was speaking her thoughts, so blurred had the line between perfection and reality become, "It's so beautiful out here. It's gorgeous – like the field of flowers, only weightless, and soft."

"Yes," he said, and Sophie pulled her head away so that she could look at him, watching him smile gently down at her, his eyes warm, soft, ready to indulge her in any words that might give her happiness.

"I want you to make love to me," she said in a whisper, and then, as if realizing the horror of what she had said, quickly nestled her face again against his shoulder.

She held her breath, waiting for his answer, and then froze, her body suddenly rigid as she heard him begin to laugh.

"Sophie," he said, almost exasperatingly, teasingly, as if she had just said the silliest thing in the world. "Make love? You know that I love you already. I just told you so."

Sophie held her eyes open wide, though she could see nothing but the blur of his wet hair, and her lips trembled uncontrollably. A coldness settled suddenly through her entire body, making it feel heavy, rigid, immovable– and she shivered terribly.

"I said," she whispered desperately. "I said that I want you to … make love to me … not … love me … you know … to please …"

But she was trembling so hard she couldn't speak, and Howl tightened his hold on her, rubbing her back in slow, steady circles.

"You're freezing," he said, concerned. "We should go back."

She nodded fiercely, desperate to escape the situation she had so unwittingly created. In a few moment's time Howl was pulling her back aboard the boat, and she was crouched on the deck once again, a dry towel wrapped around her shoulders like an old woman's shawl. He had explained, begging her forgiveness, that he had forgotten the drying powder at the castle.

Sophie, however, was glad that her hair remained soaking wet. The water that dripped from it was a perfect mask, hiding the tears that slid down her face as she watched Howl guide them back into the harbor.

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Her hair was nearly dry as she stepped over the threshold of the castle door, grateful for the warm, dry heat that Calcifer had provided to fill the room. He perked up upon hearing them enter, his flames soaring orange around him.

"Hey," he said, frowning worriedly. "Sophie – you're all wet!"

"I'm fine, Calcifer," she mumbled, letting Howl guide her to her favorite chair near to him. He bent down to kiss her cheek, and she held herself still as a statue, lips parted, staring out in front of her as if she couldn't feel a thing.

"I'm going upstairs to change," he said in a low, caring voice. "And then I'll come down to fix us some supper. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied numbly, drawing the shawl protectively around her. She sniffled, swallowing hard, feeling dull and achy from the cold, and the secret tears.

"You're going to be sick," the fire demon was saying, flickering wildly. "Swimming in the ocean! That idiot!"

"No," she said, her voice filled with precious little emotion. "It was … fun."

"If it was so fun, why are you sniffling, and so pale?" Calcifer asked in protest, his crackling voice accusatory. "I may not be human, but I can tell when they're weakened. You probably even have a fever! What was he thinking! What next, a sky dive from the castle? He's going to kill you!"

Sophie smiled faintly, and despite how weak she was feeling, his familiar bickering warmed her heart in some odd way.

"Don't worry about me," she said in a soft voice. "I'm just a little tired, is all."

"Then you should rest," Calcifer replied passionately. "I'll make sure he cooks a good meal for you first, though. Something warm and filling – if only it wasn't for the both of you. I'd be sure to burn his half."

She chuckled gently, sighing a little as she settled back in her chair. She could hear Howl distantly on the stairwell, and she braced herself for the smile she would need to display, the enthusiasm, despite how listless she felt. Throughout her life, Sophie had experienced the full range of emotions – from devastation to unrestrained joy – but never before had she felt such an overwhelming emptiness. It was as though she was so weak, the only comfort she could give herself was feeling nothing at all.

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Well, I may need to raise the rating for the next chapter. We'll see – but did you like it? If you did, you should please tell me. I'm not awake at two in the morning only to make myself happy! If you're a little grateful – leave a little message for me. I read them over sometimes four or five times between chapters, to inspire myself. Thank you!