Esma dug her fingertips into Argider's shoulders as they sank to the floor, unwilling to yield even a moment of their kiss to the necessity of the motion. The heat of his mouth and strength of his hands stoked a fire within her that she had long thought extinguished.
He broke away first, to trail kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his hands busying themselves with her braid, untying the ribbon at its end and slowly pulling the strands of hair loose from one another. Esma trembled as he worked his way higher, the slow relaxation of hair along her scalp and his insistent lips moving along her collarbone sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body.
Her braid now undone, he ran his fingers through her loose hair before returning to her shoulders to remove her robe. He pulled back and gazed at her, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded with desire, as the straps of her nightgown followed of their own accord, pulling the rest of the delicate garment with it, enough to reveal one of her breasts. He dipped his head to take it into his mouth, but she caught him in a kiss before he could do so, and let her hands wander to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and running her fingers over his exposed skin.
He groaned and caught her lower lip gently between his teeth. "Well played," he murmured, a quiet laugh rumbling low in his throat.
She smiled and pulled away, then pressed her lips to his throat and worked her way down as she pushed his shirt over his shoulders. He freed himself of its sleeves and wrapped one arm around her waist, using his other hand to slide the rest of Esma's nightgown over her breasts and cup one in his palm. He kneaded her breast, his callused touch deliciously rough against her tender skin, and when he closed his thumb and forefinger around her nipple and gave a light tug, Esma tossed her head back with a sharp gasp.
She hooked one arm around his neck and leaned back, giving him full access to her other breast, which he did not hesitate to lavish with attention, dragging his tongue across the nipple, circling it with the tip, before capturing it between his lips and sucking. A high-pitched grunt escaped Esma, and she ground her hips against his lap, feeling him growing stiff beneath her. She laced the fingers of one hand through his hair and clutched hard, while her other hand gripped his wrist, spasming with each new wave of sparks he sent singing along her nerves.
His mouth left her breast and traveled upward, stopping to flick his tongue against the depression at the base of her throat and lightly tracing her skin with its tip as he moved up to her chin. She was shivering now, quiet, pleading sounds passing her lips. He pulled away and gently guided her onto her back, absently gathering her discarded robe beneath her head. He brushed loose strands of hair from her forehead, wiping away the film of sweat that had begun to form, and smiled.
"You're wonderful," he whispered.
"I've done nothing," she replied, her hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his trousers.
"You've done more than you think." He kissed her temple. "Far more than you'll ever know."
"Then tell me." She undid the buttons and pushed his trousers and underclothes down to his hips. Meanwhile, his hands skimmed the length of her body, slipping beneath the hem of her nightgown.
"Where shall I begin?" he mused, pushing the thin material over her thighs, her hips. "Your kindness? Your generosity? Your perseverance?" He retreated from her busy hands to press a light kiss to the inside of her thigh, just above her knee, and draw a shuddering sigh from her.
"You've cared for me," he went on, placing another kiss just a bit higher than the last, his hand caressing her other thigh. "Given me work." Kiss. "A purpose." Another kiss. "A place to call home."
"Home," Esma sighed, feeling his breath through the fabric of her underclothes, his fingers sliding into the waistband. She lifted her hips as he pulled them down, his breath now cool against the heat between her legs.
"Home," he repeated, then pushed his tongue between her folds and drew it up along the length of her moist slit. Esma cried out and dug her fingernails into the floorboards. He continued, pressing deeper with each pass, and Esma felt as if her veins were filled with molten metal, the fire growing low in her abdomen, the pleasure at once too much to handle and not enough to satisfy.
She squirmed beneath him, trying to match her movement to the rhythm of his mouth. He hummed against her, the sound traveling through her body like a rumble of thunder. He buried his face deeper between her legs, his strokes growing eager and sloppy as he drove her closer to edge, and when his tongue slipped higher and flicked against her swollen clitoris, she screamed and clamped her thighs around his head.
Undaunted—encouraged, rather—he turned his focus to this area. His tongue made short strokes across the top of it, and long, drawn-out strokes around it, while his hand slid around her thigh and he gently worked one, then two, fingers inside of her.
Esma's groan escalated to a sob, and she rocked against his fingers, feeling them curl inside her, touching places not even she dared reach for in the years since Julen's death.
"Please," she breathed, "keep going."
He raised his head to look at her and grinned, his eyes remaining on hers as he increased his pace, the shortness of his breath matching her frenzied gasps. She clutched at his other arm, sliding her hand up and down in time with his fingers, and watched the smug spark in his eyes give way to a lustful glaze.
He bit his lower lip and pushed deeper yet, more forcefully, his thumb reaching up to rub her clit in ever smaller circles. Esma's breath grew shallower, her grip on his arm less precise; her vision swam in and out of focus, eyelids fluttering, and when he curled his fingers tightly inside of her and pressed his thumb down hard, her eyes rolled back and a low, stuttering groan came from her throat, her body spasming and thighs clenching together around Argider's hand.
When she came back to herself, heart pounding in her chest, she looked up and found him in the same position, a ridiculous open-mouthed grin on his face, giving the impression of something between pleasure and desire. She laughed breathlessly.
"You," she panted, "are wonderful."
He withdrew his hand and helped her sit up, where she could not ignore the sign of his arousal, peeking out just above the waistband she'd unbuttoned.
"But it's only fair," she continued, reaching into his trousers and taking him into her hand, "that you enjoy yourself, as well." She moved her hand along his length, down and up again, and he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned her name. He slid his fingers into her hair and opened his eyes again, holding her gaze as she worked, the tip of his tongue flicking out and across his lips.
She passed her thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the wetness already leaking there, and flashed a wicked smile. With all he had done for her, he must have been ready for quite some time. She admired his restraint.
She raised her other hand to his chest and pushed him gently backwards as she situated herself above him. The lust in his eyes turned to wonder, and he caught her by the waist.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and ragged.
She nodded. "Absolutely." The smiles they shared gave way to expressions of pleasure as she lowered herself onto him. She had forgotten the distinct sensation of being filled so completely—the delectable stretch, the heat and pulse of another inside her own body. Argider restrained himself for a moment longer, allowing her to adjust to him, then moved up into her at a steady pace, watching her the whole while.
She ran her fingers through his hair, her hips bearing down in time with his thrusts. She kissed his forehead, his temples, his eyelids, before he leaned up and captured her mouth with his own.
She laughed against him as their tongues sought one another's, and curled her fingers tighter in his hair. Argider moaned, long and low, his breath coming quicker. He moved his hands from her waist to her hips and increased his speed.
Esma broke the kiss with a sharp cry and, unable to keep up with him any longer, allowed him to carry her to the precipice of ecstasy. She clung to him, panting, her breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, murmuring her name over and over, pressing hot kisses against her sweat-slicked skin. Then, with a strangled groan and one final, deep thrust, he came.
Esma's mouth soundlessly dropped open as the heat flooded her, and she ground herself against him. Still sensitive from her previous orgasm, it did not take her long to climax again, this time calling out his name.
They held each other as they rode out the tide of pleasure. Esma sighed as her clenching finally eased, and draped her arms loosely over Argider's shoulders, resting her head on his chest. Argider ran his hands over her back, up beneath the nightgown damp with sweat.
"Glorious," he said as he withdrew. "You are glorious."
Esma chuckled. "As are you." She lay back on the floor, resting her head on her robe, while Argider fumbled through the pockets of his half-removed pants for a handkerchief. Finding one at last, he gently wiped the insides of Esma's thighs, sending one last tremor of pleasure through her. Then he lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her.
She nuzzled against him and inhaled deeply, the scents of sweat and sex strong upon both of them. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked.
Argider laughed. "I appreciate that you expect me to remember anything I said during all that."
"About home. Finding home, here."
He was quiet for a moment, fingertips tracing the muscles in Esma's arms. "I've never really known what home is, not for certain. Most of my life, it's simply been wherever I end up after a trip. But here, this island, the cabin and the lighthouse. You. Here, I feel like I belong. Can't say exactly why, I just know." He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. "Unless I'm being presumptuous?"
"Not at all. I feel like you belong here, too. I've felt that way since you began talking about repairing the cabin. It seemed like such a ridiculous idea; I couldn't bring myself to believe anyone would actually do it. Why should they? It was I who let it fall into disuse. But the way you cared for the cabin, the attention and effort you put into its repair... who could do that but a man who feels at home there?"
"You don't mind?"
"Why would I?" She traced the length of his nose with her fingertip. "You've brought so much back into my life. Companionship, humor, hope. Love."
He looked into her eyes, the tenderness in his own softening the lines on his face, and smiled. "Thank you."
"No. Thank you."
With a quiet laugh, he sat up and helped her do the same. "Maybe we should get to bed. It'd be a lot more comfortable."
"Yes, you're right. There won't be anything to watch for, after all; it's a clear morning."
"What a relief."
* * *
The mainland beyond Calmeni was awash in shades of red and yellow, interspersed with the deep green of pines and firs. On Aselada Island, the grasses grew yellow and brittle, the wildflowers dried up and blew away, and only the stand of pine trees behind the cabin still whispered in the wind. The nights grew longer, with a chill edge to them, and Argider and Esma had taken to sharing the nightly watch, so that they might have time to prepare the cabin and the garden before winter arrived.
The trellis was complete now, and stood tall at the edge of the garden, ready to take on new vines come spring. In the garden itself, Esma was on her hands and knees, planting bulbs for spring flowers—tulips, daffodils, lilies, and hyacinths—while taking care to reserve enough room for the seeds and transplanted wildflowers she planned to add once spring actually arrived. She tapped the soil down over one bulb with the back of her trowel and looked up in time to see Argider crest the hill from the shore, a bundle of firewood under each arm.
"Anything else?" she called to him.
"A couple more trips' worth," he replied.
She rose and dusted her skirt. "I'll help." She walked the path to the beach and remembered the first time Argider had offered to do the shopping on his own. He'd accompanied her to Calmeni before, and seemed alarmed at the amount of curious glances thrown their way by the townsfolk.
"It's only natural," Esma said, shrugging. "After all, it's been eight years since they've seen me with anyone else."
"And if they ask?"
"Introduce yourself. They're a mostly decent lot here in Calmeni, friendly enough."
Argider smiled and nodded at a pair of women passing them, who blinked in surprise, then returned the gesture. "Introduce myself as what?"
"As who you are." Esma grinned, but she knew what he was truly asking.
"And who am I, to you? Your friend? Your lover? Neither sounds quite right."
"You're right. You are my friend, but so much more. And 'lover' sounds so...casual. Do you suppose I'm too old to have a beau?"
He laughed. "Not at all! But others—"
"Will simply have to be satisfied with it." She stopped and took his hands into hers. "I'm not sure what to call us, either, not yet. But it doesn't need a name! I know how I feel about you, and how you feel about me, and that's more than enough." She squeezed his hands, and he ran his thumbs over her knuckles. "Besides, I don't think it's anyone else's business but our own."
"And will you tell them that? To their faces?"
"I will tell them that I am happy. The happiest I've been in years! And you?"
"That's a fine answer. I'll tell them something similar."
"Similar?"
"That I'm the happiest I've ever been." They began walking again, hand in hand. "That I am truly happy for the first time in my life."
Thus armed with a response for any townsfolk that wished to pry, Argider volunteered to make the trip to Calmeni on his own the following week. He didn't tell her whether he had fielded any questions, but he did return in good spirits, bearing a small package in addition to those holding food and supplies. Inside was a clock set into a wooden base meant to be displayed on the mantelpiece and decorated with delicately carved gulls on either side of the clock's face.
"I noticed there was no clock in the cabin," Argider said, "and I thought you might like this one."
Esma smiled and traced one gull with her finger, trying to contain the swell of emotion that rose in her at the realization that Argider had been thinking of her even on his shopping trip. "It's lovely! I do like it, very, very much. Oh, when the old clock broke years ago, I'd had no need for a new one, but now that the cabin's fixed, now that we're there again, we definitely need one! But you didn't have to."
"I wanted to." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "I've told you, I love to see you smile."
The next time Esma went to Calmeni on her own, she brought Argider back a small porcelain ship. It had no practical use, but his eyes lit up when he saw it, and he spent that evening regaling her with stories of his travels on the sea, where he'd been and what he'd seen. She, too, liked to see him smile, and the ship took its place on the mantel, next to the clock.
And so began a tradition between the two of them to bring back a small gift from Calmeni whenever either of them went to town without the other. Their collection was still small, but growing, and at the heart of it all, from a small nail hammered into the center of the mantelpiece, hung the clamshell pendant Esma had bought on the fateful day that brought them together, a day that felt like a lifetime ago.
Today, however, the only package Esma found between the bundles of firewood contained food and supplies. She frowned. Perhaps Argider had not taken enough money with him this time, or perhaps, he had finally forgotten. Tradition could quickly become routine, she knew, and maybe that simple, silly episode of their life together had faded into the background. She hoped it would have lasted a little longer. With a sigh, she gripped the ropes around the bundles of firewood and began to lift.
"Looking for something?" Argider's voice caused her to jump, and she let the wood fall back onto the floor of the boat.
"Not particularly." she readjusted her grip on the ropes.
"You won't find it among the firewood. I didn't want to risk it breaking." He fished into his pocket and produced a small wooden box. Esma set down the firewood again and turned to him.
"You didn't forget!"
"Of course not! How could I? Here, I hope you like it."
Esma took the box and flicked open the tiny latch, then lifted the lid. Immediately, a tinkling little tune began to play, and, once the lid was fully open, a miniscule ship drifted around an island lighthouse, calmly, endlessly. Esma watched it and laughed softly.
"It's beautiful."
"Not quite as beautiful as the real thing," Argider said, gesturing toward the rest of Aselada Island, "but it captures the sentiment well."
"Sentiment?"
He smiled and lifted the bundles of firewood. "It's far too late to play coy."
She laughed again and closed the box, setting it gingerly atop the crate of supplies. Once back at the cabin, she immediately pulled the music box from the crate and set it on the mantelpiece. She opened it again and watched the ship sail around the lighthouse, steady, constant, everlasting companions.
* * *
Winter in this region of Meraleda was a strange beast. Though Calmeni did not receive much in the way of snow, temperatures plummeted, and its winter storms were brutal. Fierce winds, torrential rains, the occasional flurry, all frequently leaving thick fog in their wake. Because of this, the lighthouse operated around the clock for days at a time. During these storms, Esma and Argider abandoned the cabin for the lighthouse, alternating four-hour watches through the worst of the weather.
Cold seeped in through the windows of the lantern room and was only effectively dispelled in the kitchen, so Esma and Argider worked in heavy coats and gloves, sweating from exertion and catching a chill as soon as they removed their outerclothes. For Argider, this resulted in a persistent cold early in the season, through which Esma refused to let him work. Though she tried her best to keep him confined to the kitchen or the bedroom, he still made his way to the lantern deck, and she finally relented to letting him take the watch on clear nights, provided he was thoroughly bundled up.
On one of these nights, as she was getting ready for bed, he called her back up to the lantern room.
"There's a boat out there," he said, handing her a pair of binoculars, "that appears to be struggling."
Esma peered through the binoculars and caught sight of a small boat as the light passed over it. Though there were no clouds, the wind had picked up after sunset, and the sea was choppy. The little boat was being tossed about, making its way toward the harbor and getting pushed back again, and Esma knew it would not be long before the oarsman's strength gave out.
"What do you suppose it's doing out there in such rough weather?" Argider asked.
"It looks like a tour boat that got caught out by darkness. Though I don't see any visitors aboard."
"Why would they have gone out so late?"
"Better money for the boatman. Visitors pay well for sunset rides, or riskier trips." As she spoke, the boat took a wave to its side and made no more effort against the sea. "I have to get out there." She headed for the stairs.
Argider followed her. "Esma, are you out of your mind? It's dangerous!"
"It's my job."
"Let me go, instead."
She paused on the staircase. "Argider, I respect your skill and experience as a sailor. You know the sea well, but so do I, in a different way." She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I've done this before, long before the night I rescued you. I know what I'm doing. I'll be fine."
Argider said nothing.
"What you can do for me," Esma went on, "is keep the light. I'll need it. Keep the light, and I'll be fine."
He nodded and watched her disappear down the stairs.
Esma didn't stop to change clothes, but only pulled on a coat and an oilskin and a pair of sturdy boots. She grabbed the lantern from its place near the door and left the lighthouse, running down to the beach and launching her boat into the water.
She rowed through the strait toward the harbor, turning her back to the waves that sloshed over the side of her boat. Once away from the island and its shield against the wind, the open sea hit her hard. She adjusted her grip on the oars and dug into each wave, propelling herself away from the coast toward the boat in distress. She glanced up at the lighthouse, then followed its beam over the water to her destination.
As she neared the boat, her heart sank to see no one sitting up in it. She called out, twice, and finally, the top of someone's head poked over the side.
"Lost my oars," the boatman admitted. "Sea ripped 'em right out of my hands."
"Is there anyone else aboard?" Esma asked.
"One gentleman. Visitor from the west."
"Is he hurt?"
The boatman smirked as Esma drew nearer, and helped the other man sit up. "Nothin' but his stomach, I reckon."
"The sea is a cruel mistress, and even crueler teacher." Esma helped the visitor into the boat, followed by the boatman, and covered them both with oilskins and blankets. "I'll get you into the harbor, but take care to get warm and dry as soon as possible."
"Oh, much obliged, ma'am." The boatman cast a glare at the visitor, which drew a meek thank-you from him.
Esma dropped the rescued men off at the harbor, then set off for the lighthouse again. By the time the beach of Aselada Island came into view, her arms were burning, and her entire body shivered. The water that she had taken on during her rescue had soaked through the bottom half of her flannel nightgown, and her legs had grown numb with the cold. She stumbled up the hill, and was only halfway to the top when Argider ran down to meet her.
"Esma!" He gathered her in his arms. "You're all right?"
Esma nodded, not trusting her voice to tremble like the rest of her body.
"You're shivering. Come on, let's get inside, get you dried off and warmed up."
"I'm all right. You need to be keeping watch."
"No more vessels out there right now." He helped her into the lighthouse and up the stairs to the kitchen. Handing her a pair of towels, he shook his head and sighed. "All this, for the sake of a fool."
"Perhaps the fool needed the pay."
"But at what cost? The life of his client? His own? Yours?"
Esma laughed. "It would never be mine. I know the sea."
Argider didn't laugh with her.
"It's my job," she reminded him.
Silently, he dropped to his knees and began to dry her legs. She shed her outerclothes and boots, and took over. Still, he didn't rise.
"I know it's your job," he said at last, quietly. "And I know I was one of those fools, once."
"You weren't foolish. It was an accident."
"You risked your life for me, all the same. Esma...I thought I knew what that meant, but seeing you tonight, watching you from up here, unable to do anything to help you...I understand how much you did for me." He kissed the top of her knee. "I haven't thanked you enough. Don't know if I ever can."
"Argider." She ran her hand through his hair. "You've done more than enough for me. More than I ever dreamed anyone could. You're in no debt to me."
He pushed her nightgown up to her hips, placed the towel over her knees and rested his head there. Esma smiled and removed her nightgown the rest of the way, replacing it with the other towel. Her shivering had long since stopped, and between the heat of the stove and Argider's warmth, her comfort turned to drowsiness. She closed her eyes with a contented sigh, and only opened them again to find Argider pulling the covers over her in bed. She caught his hand and squeezed it, then slipped back into peaceful slumber.