tagRomanceHot Cannons & Warm Lovers Ch. 02

Hot Cannons & Warm Lovers Ch. 02



If you suddenly found that your world had turned upside-down and what you thought that you had was no more by the actions of another, what would you do?

More to the point of this, what would you do if you only knew that you had to move ahead, rather than be alone in a land where you know absolutely no one?

How about if that land was largely unpopulated?

Hey, it'll be winter soon enough as well, ...

Sometimes things can be decided a little quickly with the right person in a place far from where you're from.



Town Wharves, Moy, Upper Canada, 1792

It was already growing dark when two men met on a wharf at Moy. The place was a smaller center for the fur trade as well as a terminus for people passing through to and from the United States. Just as York would one day take a different name and flourish as the city of Toronto, Moy would one day become the city of Windsor. One thing which would not change was that it lay just across the river from Detroit.

The two men made their introductions to each other and began to walk along the wharf with a two-masted schooner in the background.

"This one is not old," one of them said in a bit of surprise, "I came here expecting to see an old worm-ridden tub. She is as-new as I see her here and still has years of service to give. Why sell her now?"

The other man nodded as he began to point out a few features barely visible in the dark illumination of the ship's and dock lighting, "You must quite obviously return in the daylight hours to see most of her attributes, sir, but yes, you are correct.

Nancy was built just across the river there in the Detroit yards only three years ago. She was built by our own masters there. The place is American territory, but the formal passing-over of it has not occurred even yet. You know how governments act as though they have more time than money, as though time itself was a commodity that is inexhaustible.

That notwithstanding, however, I have the pleasure of telling you that Nancy is eighty feet long, with a beam of twenty-two feet and a draft of eight feet. Her hold has a capacity of sixty-seven long tons or three hundred and fifty barrels.

She's quite the speedy lass with a fair wind up her skirts and can step along nicely. Oh, and she can turn about sharply if you've a mind or the need of it. Her draft is not all that deep and she can manage to navigate a good distance up many larger rivers and being a schooner of her size, she has no trouble in sailing upwind -- a selling point to be sure if she is to be worked in these waters.

We're putting her up for sale as we presently have excess capacity on these lakes, from a commerce point of view. Nancy's master at present is her original one, a Captain William Mills. He and most of the crew I believe, would be happy to sail her for her new owners. They love the girl that much."

The other man nodded as he peered a little at the bowsprit carving, "I shall endeavor to be here not long after first light to get a good look at her, as you say.

That's a very lovely woman there. A bit of fine carving work, I must say. It must do the woman proud who provided the inspiration for it."

The first man nodded, "She was commissioned by Mister John Richardson, one of our senior partners. Nancy is named after his eldest daughter, who I believe, was also the inspiration for that figurehead. It was carved by a firm known as Skelling in New York.

I must also point out, since it grows quite dark at present, that Nancy is rather lightly armed, having only four three-pounder guns. She has never sailed into any difficulty, but the guns are there in order to preclude such, if necessary. She relies on her speed to get her out of trouble if needs must."

The other man chuckled as they walked off to resume their preliminary negotiations at a nearby tavern, "I've known many trollops back in London who have done the same back in my day, though what I see in the admittedly poor light is a high-spirited wench who looks to be able to dance a fair jig when she's working."


Outside of Penetanguishene, Upper Canada, 1792

Étienne had been sleeping soundly for a while, worn-out from the day, but he awoke a little as he felt someone lying down beside him.

"Maman?" he asked in a sleepy voice.

"Non, mon petite cher," Kiwidinok smiled as she hugged him from behind, whispering, "It is only me, your Kiwinidok, Étienne. Your mother does not want to come to bed yet. She wishes to talk with my friend Nehaseemo for a little while, that is all. But I am as tired as you from all of the paddling today, so I have come to make sure that you do not feel lonely."

She kissed the back of his head as she wrapped her arm around him over his nightshirt, "You do not mind sharing your warmth with an old woman?"

Étienne smirked as he looked back a little, "No, and you are not old."

The remark earned him another kiss on his head. "Polite and charming as well as handsome. I see why your mother is so proud of her fine boy."

"Kiwidinok?" he began, "What's she like, your daughter?"

The woman found herself stuck for a moment as she considered her reply. "Ayashe is not one who makes friends as easily as you, Étienne. She is cautious at first. I think that you might say that her friendship must be earned. But I think that you will find that you might need her. Most of the other children where we go have grown up there from birth. They can be a little rough to get to know, so do not expect to make many friends easily.

Ayashe is one who thinks that she has no need of friends at all. I think it comes from being a girl who sees everything as a fight to prove herself equal to boys in anything. That makes her forget about having friends, I think. Perhaps you may need each other, I cannot say.

But that is for another time," Kiwidinok smiled, "Now it is time for a pair of tired canoe paddlers to sleep. Lay your head down, my friend, and dream well."


Lise watched as he removed his buckskin leggings. There was not much light and he seemed to be doing it a little slowly. She even wondered if he was doing it that way as a means of increasing her feeling of anticipation over what would likely come.

He laid them aside and then he rose up on his knees to remove his breechcloth. Lise found that she was actually holding her breath -- which was stupid, she thought. He was a man, not some stallion, and she was a woman. What was there in this that would make her feel so, ... nervous, the way that she found herself feeling now?

Was she really going to do this?

She knew that she wanted to, and perhaps one of the strongest background motivators was the knowledge that she'd only ever had one man -- who really hadn't been much of one back then. What had that been, she asked herself? She guessed that he might have been fifteen. From what she knew now, no fifteen year-old goes for a long time; not long enough for her, anyway. It had only begun to feel really good and then he was done.

Two repeats of that and she'd gotten Étienne to carry, bear, and raise alone.

There had to be better than that and Kiwidinok said that there was, and with a few quiet words from her, here they were.

The difference between the fuzzy cheeked fool who had managed to sweet-talk her and this man, ...

She could see nothing in any detail, since he still wore his shirt and it covered him to the tops of his thighs, but the answer came to her.

She felt nervous for a couple of reasons. She knew that she was pretty and that both of the two friends, Nehaseemo and Kiwidinok, both had said that she was beautiful to them. It was a comforting thought, but ...

Lise had only had a little experience at flirting with boys, and it had been back when she was a girl. The sum total of her sexual experience had been with only one boy three times -- and she now knew that he'd been an idiot with likely as little experience at this as she'd had back then. She'd never been with a man.

And Nehaseemo, ... well, he certainly was that, to be sure. This would be no hurried tryst in the back of a cart in an alley. That had been so long ago...

Well, a lot of water had gone under the bridge since then, and Lise had never again had anything to do with sex, other than when she masturbated and that wasn't sex. Not really; not in the way that two people perform the act together to mutual pleasure and benefit. From what she knew though, to these people, sex wasn't a huge thing. It was just something one did. That thought in her head earlier had caused Lise to ask her friend if Nehaseemo was very experienced.

Kiwidinok had laughed in the pleasing musical way of hers, saying that in her experience while in his arms, he certainly was, and long before he'd been there between her legs, too.

Lise watched as he reached down for the hem of his shirt and her mind went back to the thought of him doing this a little slowly to raise her anticipation.

She wondered if he knew just how well it was working.

As he drew the garment up and pulled it over his head, Lise saw the full measure of this man. It was so dark here and yet she could see the way that the long ridges of his powerful thighs stood out and -

And she way that his abdomen rippled as he moved to get the thing off to lay it aside almost took her breath -- again. Before he had it off over his head, and before he could see it, she looked at what he had and she held her larynx immobile. She exhaled, but there was no sound to it -- which was what she wanted, because as far as she could tell in this darkness, ...

Kiwidinok had gotten her childhood wish for him. Her gaze seemed to zoom right in and as it seemed to twitch a little, either because he was doing that somehow, or perhaps it was only his pulse that she was watching, her thoughts rang in her head in perfect time to the slight motions of it.

'Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlice de crisse!' were her exact thoughts, and she even knew the blasphemous nature of them and the ridiculous non-connection between what she was looking at and her mental remark. What the hell did that sweet thing have to do with the sacred host or any sacrament or even any sort of holy chalice? But that was the phrase that she'd learned so far back that she didn't know where it had come from anymore.

Her stallion analogy came rushing right back to her unbidden, this time in his favor.

He had the shirt off and laid aside then and she saw his soft gaze turn toward her as his hands slowly motioned her to remove what she was wearing.

She had wanted to demure then, almost losing her nerve.

Tabarnac, she almost wanted to get to her feet and run again -- and she didn't even know why. He was the most attractive man that she'd ever seen in her life!

And all of that real estate -- all of that fine countryside on him, the muscle and the nicest-smelling flesh that she'd ever laid her blue eyes on were hers right now.

All she had to do was to get her dress off and make the six foot journey to his arms.

Six feet.

Seventy-two inches.

Two hundred and eighty-eight increments of one-quarter inch each.

The way that she felt rooted to the spot, it ought to take her no more than half a week -- if she couldn't manage to scrape up just a little of the same courage that she'd found in herself to play with her wet fingers in the sunshine only hours ago.

What the hell was the matter with her?

He reached for the end of his long braid and he began to untie it. Lise used the time to get her dress unbuttoned, thankful that she'd had the presence of mind to toss her undergarments long before.

He began to get his braid loose and then he shook it out for a moment and that was it for Lise.

Nehaseemo was naked and beautiful before her standing on his knees.

This time, she really did whimper softly.

Oh God, there surely was no saving her from this.

Please, dear God in Heaven, let there be no saving her from this.

Even if an army of Jesuits came in through the tent door, she'd likely kill the first few all by herself over the intrusion.

She rose up on her knees in imitation of his posture and he smiled to see it -- that same soft smile that she'd seen earlier today on the beach -- the one that showed nothing but his warm feelings for her.

The very same one which, if only they could have understood each other when she'd been sitting naked in the small surf, was almost enough to cause her to crawl to him and beg for this.

She pulled the dress off a little slowly, not to raise his anticipation, though she hoped that she might have a chance at doing that with it. It was more out of a sense that she needed to do it this way to prevent her shakiness from being seen.

She drew the thing over her head and shook her hair a little. To her amazement and utter joy, she heard his quiet gasp.

Two hundred and eighty-eight increments, hell, she decided; they didn't have half a week for her foolish skittishness.

Lise leaned onto her hands and she crossed that gap in a very slow crawl to him, and once there, she rose up so that they faced each other and she put her hand on his chest to look up as he looked down and she swore that she saw far deeper than only the powerful warrior in his soft brown eyes.

Her arm went around his neck and she leaned in to put her head onto his other shoulder. It felt so good and he smelled absolutely wonderful as she kissed his throat softly, hoping that it would elicit some sound from him.

The quiet moan from him was enough. More than enough; and she lifted her head to offer him her mouth.

The first kiss between them almost toppled them both and it began the trading of caresses over their bodies as that kiss went on and on, neither of them seeming to have the ability or the will to break it. What hung between his thighs caused the end of the kiss when it rose to nudge Lise in the perfect spot. She moved her hips a little to tell it that it was welcome there.

The next thing that she knew, she felt his hand there and she reached for what he had as well. After a few moments of that, she was on her back and he was over her, working his dry shaft into her very slowly, using her wetness in little motions until a look into her eyes told him that she didn't want to wait any longer, now that she'd finally committed herself to this.

He applied a little saliva until she stopped him with the sweetest of playful little smiles, so that she could help with her own.

As he looked down on the other most beautiful female that he'd ever seen, she smiled up apologetically -- as taken as she was by him in this -- as she slowly told him her apology that she was no maiden.

He stopped and stared at her then, and Lise felt a thrill of fear that she might have ruined it all then.

"But, ... I want, ... " he groaned then, finding himself back at the language issue again.

"I want, ... Lise," he said, "Beautiful mother, I want Lise." He leaned down to kiss her and then he was at her throat and her head was as far back as she could get it to go as she smiled and chuckled a little carefully.

"I, ... want, ... Nehaseemo," she sighed and she knew from his slight shiver that it had raised the hair at the back of his neck.

So she did have powers, she realized. She was someone who this man would want -- even though she was a mother.

She pulled him down onto her and she wrapped her legs around him tightly with a soft little whimper to tell him that he'd won her right there and then.

She felt his hair against her face and she loved it as her hands wandered over his shoulders and back while he thrust into her.

But he had a few surprises and he even retained enough of a brain to use them as he varied his motions, not only driving into and out of her. He moved it around, rarely only thrusting. It took her farther.

It gave her many little climaxes which turned out to be misnomers. They were attainments; levels reached on the way. But when he did thrust more to the exclusion of all else, oh, ... she felt as though they were more than just a pair of people fucking somehow. A few times like this would have gone a long way to improving her outlook, if not her life!

Lise reveled in the way that his body felt to her hands and against her. All of this masculine power right here on top of her, placed so carefully so as not to crush her. Everywhere that she ran her hands, he just felt so wonderful, so, ... good.

No; far better than good. This was right to her, somehow.

He quickened it for her and she threw her head back again as she felt him slap against her, driving that sweet beast that he had in and out of her. What she remembered feeling all those years ago was an intrusion.

What she felt now filled her, spreading her to take all of the room that she had for it as she moaned softly for the way that she felt him pound into her. All that Lise could do was to hold him and whimper the sweetest- sounding nonsense into his ear. He didn't know what she said then.

Lise didn't even know. All that she knew was that it was important to say right then. After a time, she realized that it wasn't even words of any kind. She only knew that he understood them. His eyes when she looked up into them said that.

He smiled at her and she could see that she was making him happy, beyond the foolishness of the thought. It was right there; his happiness and she chattered some nonsense to him very softly in her joy.

To her amazement, he nodded and then he kissed her, sending her flying off behind her now-closed eyelids.

He moved one of his legs out to the side a little so that he could lift up a little, one of his hands reaching for her breast and she almost keened out her joy.

But then he lowered his head and began to suck and chew her nipple in the sweetest way that had to be worth half an afternoon in a confessional at the church all by itself! Lise fell then, right then and she arched her back up to give him more as her hands clawed the blankets to pieces, as far as she knew or cared.

When she topped out, he was not long behind her and they hung on then, using only little motions to keep it going if they could with her wondering about him for a moment.

Aside from very quiet grunts, he'd made no sound. Her own noises were quiet as well, but she had an explanation for that. She just wondered about him. The loudest sounds of their copulation were the soft slapping of him against her.

When she had the chance of it, she pushed him up until he understood and lifted up a little.

"Not good?" she asked, "Nehaseemo so quiet. Not good?"

He kissed her then, partly for speaking the first words in his language that he'd heard from her. He resolved to keep it as simple for her as he could.

"So good," he smiled, "But, ... Étienne sleeps."

Lise smiled up at him in surprise, "Nehaseemo makes talk like father."

He nodded and surprised her yet again, "Want to be father. Want son like Étienne. Want- "

He lowered his head for a moment and Lise was touched at how he struggled.

He knew what he wanted to say -- he just didn't know how to say it.

He leaned down so that his lips grazed Lise's ear as he whispered, "I think too much. I think when you were in water. I make small dream that cannot be." He kissed her face, her cheeks, eyelids, nose, everything for a minute.

"Want Lise then. I see my friend again and dream grows in me. Lise and Kiwidinok. Two beautiful mothers, but Kiwinidok has man now. Meet Étienne and want son like him. I want woman who can make such a son."

He sighed sadly, "A dream only. Nehaseemo can have nothing. War comes one day. War chiefs not grow old."

He sighed once more, "War chiefs die."

Lise didn't know what to say. She felt her eyes sting over something which seemed so wrong to her.

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