by J. P. Bowie
“And I’m sure he loves Tanaka very much, but considers what they share private and personal and not something for others to talk about. MacDonald comes from a culture where love between men is forbidden, just as I do. We are not as advanced in thought and acceptance as your people.”
“Tanaka understood,” Nashoba said. “I told him that I desired to be alone with you before it might be too late.”
“Too late?”
“The French army will be here by dawn and I wanted to know you, to have you inside me just once more before we may die.”
“We’re not going to die, Nashoba.” Matthew stroked Nashoba’s face and kissed his lips. “You and I will survive whatever the French bring against us. I promise you this, I will defend your life to the end because it is more precious to me than my own. Now, no more talk of dying, only living and loving.”
He took Nashoba’s lips with a kiss that was both gentle and demanding, and his lover responded with a passion that set Matthew’s blood on fire. Nothing could take this man from him…nothing. He would fight to the end to protect him and when the enemy had been vanquished, they would leave here and make a life for themselves where no one would judge them and no one would come between them and the future he foresaw for them.
“Nashoba,” he whispered against his lover’s lips. “I love you, taloka.”
“And I, you, beloved. Take me now and let me know how much. Be inside me and make us one.” He smiled up at Matthew. “I brought something that will help ease the way.”
Matthew took the small pot filled with some kind of creamy substance. “What is it?” he asked after lifting it to his nose for a quick smell. It wasn’t unpleasant.
“I do not know the name, but it is made from different herbs, crushed and blended with grease. It is said that it increases a man’s desire.”
Matthew chuckled and pecked Nashoba’s lips. “As if we have need of that. You I desire more than anything in the world.”
Nashoba sighed happily and peeled back Matthew’s shirt to kiss his way over Matthew’s chest. He lingered over each nipple, teasing and licking them until Matthew gasped and squirmed under him from the visceral pleasure Nashoba’s lips and tongue brought him. Nashoba’s nimble fingers made short work of Matthew’s belt buckle and the fall of his britches. His warm hand enclosed Matthew’s pulsing flesh, pumping it gently before trailing his tongue over the head to lap at the juice that sprang from it.
Matthew’s body jerked from the sensation. He raised his hips in offering and Nashoba greedily devoured him, sinking his lips all the way to the base of Matthew’s cock. Swirling his tongue up and down and around the steel-hard erection, he brought Matthew to the edge of completion. Not wanting to spend so quickly Matthew eased Nashoba away so he could quickly peel off his britches and boots while Nashoba dispensed with his own shirt, leggings and breechcloth. Matthew pulled Nashoba’s naked body against his own and ran his hands over the smooth, lean muscles of Nashoba’s back down to the twin firm globes of his arse.
He kissed Nashoba, pushing his tongue between his lover’s parted lips, holding his beautiful, shuddering body in a fierce embrace. Nashoba reached for the creamy substance and coated Matthew’s cock with it. It tingled the sensitive skin but felt strangely good. Matthew lifted Nashoba’s legs and knelt between them, guiding his erection between Nashoba’s cheeks until the head pressed against his opening.
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes, taloka, fuck me. I am yours.”
He thrust forward slowly at first, letting Nashoba get used to the burning sensation as he entered him. They had done this so few times that he worried he might hurt Nashoba. But Nashoba tightened his legs around Matthew’s torso and raised his hips, giving him more access. Matthew buried himself inside Nashoba to the hilt then, as Nashoba cried out in ecstasy, he thrust harder, deeper, faster, knowing from the expression of rapture on Nashoba’s face and the way his eyes rolled back that he had touched the special place inside a man that gave exquisite pleasure.
Nashoba groaned and pulled Matthew down to seal their lips together as his body writhed under Matthew’s. Their kiss was rough and demanding, the rhythm of their mating they’d set now quickening, Matthew driving his cock into Nashoba’s tight heat over and over. Nashoba’s body arched and spasmed under Matthew, his cry of ecstasy as he climaxed muffled by Matthews’s mouth over his. Matthew shuddered as his own orgasm uncoiled at the base of his spine. The hot, tingling sensation spread through his groin, his thighs, his balls until he could contain it no longer. Nashoba held him in a crushing embrace as he came, pouring his hot semen into Nashoba’s body, filling him with the evidence of his desire.
They lay basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Nashoba’s head on Matthew’s chest. Outside there was only silence, the discord that would soon surround them still several miles away, and for that Matthew was grateful. He had told both MacDonald and Nashoba that they would be victorious. He had shared that optimism with his officers and men, and he was going to do his very best to ensure that they would not be overrun by the French army. But he was savvy enough to know that against a force of four hundred soldiers, it would be very much touch and go.
A victory was not impossible regardless of the odds against them, but he was not so arrogant as to not see that the French had the upper hand with their superior number of troops. The French outnumbered them two to one and there was always the fact that they could afford to sit them out. The fort had only a limited amount of food supplies, Colonel Fowler having failed to plan ahead for the possibility of a siege or a prolonged battle.
There was perhaps one possibility that could give them the advantage.
“You are worried.” Nashoba’s whisper next to his ear startled him for a moment.
“No, not worried. The men will fight well. There are no shirkers or cowards on our side, but I was thinking…”
“Of what?”
“How many fighting men in your tribe?”
“Perhaps a hundred or so.”
“And would they fight if we asked them to?”
Nashoba nodded, his long hair brushing over Matthew’s chest. “They have no love for the French after the last skirmish when my father was killed. They will join us if I ask them.”
“Good, but I’d like to hold them in reserve. Can you speak with them? Tell them that if they see the fort about to fall, that we could use their help at that point. They could spring an attack on the French from the rear. You could lead them—”
“But I want to fight by your side, taloka. The fort might hold out for days and you and I would be separated for too long.”
Matthew didn’t want to insult Nashoba by telling him he would be safer away from the fort. The proud Choctaw warrior would not take that idea well at all.
“And you shall, but—”
“We do not argue about this, Matthew. I will go to the people at first light and tell them of what we need them to do, but then I shall return to you.”
Matthew gazed into the intensity of Nashoba’s eyes and knew there was no point in arguing. “I love you so much,” he whispered.
“And I you, taloka.”
“Now we can make perfect our time together,” Matthew said and turned onto his stomach. He shuddered with ecstasy as Nashoba’s warm breath ghosted over his shoulders and the proof of his lust pressed between Matthew’s arse cheeks. He gave up a silent prayer that this would not be their last time together.
Chapter Seven
In the pale morning sunlight, Jamie and Matthew stood looking out over Fort Bligh’s tall walls at the French army gathered before them. It would seem that by mutual consent, no mention would be made of the night before by either man, for which Jamie was grateful.
“That’s Colonel Marchand astride that white horse,” he informed Matthew. “No doubt he’ll be wanting a word with you.”
“No doubt. He’ll want to offer terms for our surrender and, when I refuse, he’ll threaten me and tell me no quarter
will be given, etcetera, etcetera. The usual stuff.” Matthew sighed. “Am I right to put all these lives in jeopardy? Not just my men, of course, but the lives of the settlers, the women and children?”
“I dinna’ think they would want you to surrender, and who knows what that arrogant jackanapes colonel might have in store for us if you come to terms with him? I wouldna’ trust that man further than I could throw him by the seat of his britches.”
Matthew chuckled and cast an amused glance at Jamie. “Of course, you’ve already had a run-in with him. Don’t worry, MacDonald, I have no intentions of surrendering to the French, today or any day. But I should have a word with the settlers so they understand what they’re in for. Just the noise of the rifle fire and cannon might upset the children.”
“Aye….oh, here we go.” A white flag had been hoisted on the French side and three officers on horseback began their approach to the fort’s gates.
“Right, better get this over with.” Matthew ran down the steps and called for a horse to be brought for him. “Best to meet them on an equal footing, I think. Why don’t you come with me, MacDonald? It’ll most likely annoy the colonel to no end to see you looking fit and well.”
Jamie laughed and hurried to the stables to saddle up and ride next to the captain.
Colonel Marchand scowled when he saw MacDonald appearing through Fort Bligh’s gates, accompanying the English commander. Is this a deliberate insult? What kind of standing can that impudent Scot have within the English army? Muttering under his breath, he returned the captain’s salute as he approached. So young a man…are the English promoting adolescents now? And only a captain. Another insult?
“Bonjour, Colonel Marchand.”
Marchand was surprised when the young captain addressed him in fluent French.
“I am Captain Matthew Garland, and I must ask you why you are here with such a large force.”
“I think you might very well know the answer to that.” Marchand smirked. “I am here to demand your surrender in order to avoid bloodshed on both sides. I understand you have a number of settlers under your protection, women and children. To avoid any harm coming to them, I suggest you agree to my terms immediately.”
“And what are those terms?” Matthew asked quietly.
“That you and your men lay down your arms, and surrender. You will be treated as prisoners of war. The settlers will be allowed to remain in the fort under my protection and—” He glared at the Scotsman who had snorted in derision at his words. The barbarian understood what was being said? “How dare you interrupt!”
Before the Scot could reply, the captain held up his hand. “There is no need for further discussion, Colonel. We do not accept your terms. There will be no surrender, and I can assure you, no woman or child under my care will ever be handed over to your protection.”
Marchand turned his scathing look from MacDonald to Captain Garland. “Un moment, Captain. Are you really the one in command here? Is there no senior officer that I can parlay with? Surely the command of such a large fort cannot be left in the hands of an inexperienced youth?”
The captain laughed, but his eyes turned steely and he answered in clipped tones. “Insults, Colonel? Not very gentlemanly of you. As a matter of fact, Fort Bligh is commanded by Colonel Fowler, but unfortunately, the colonel is indisposed and it was left to me to hold this meeting. Regardless, the answer would be the same from Colonel Fowler or indeed from any British officer worth his salt. No surrender, Colonel.”
“Aye, away back to your bonny lads in blue,” MacDonald spat. “And I hope for your sake they have more mettle in them than the ones I laid out but a few days ago!”
Marchand gaped at MacDonald’s insolent expression for a long moment. Then, his face hot with rage, he wheeled his mount around and galloped back to his lines, his officers trailing in his wake.
Matthew chuckled as he and Jamie rode back to the fort’s gates. “Not one for diplomacy, eh, MacDonald?”
“I can be diplomatic enough when I feel it’s worth being so, but with an arrogant spalpean like that, I have no time.”
“Spalpean…interesting word. Gaelic?”
“Aye, it means good for nothing and the like.”
“Well, we’ll soon discover if Marchand is good for anything. But you’re right. I wouldn’t trust him with the women and children’s safety. There is a trace of the sinister in him that made my hackles rise. So…” He stroked his horse’s neck as he turned to look at Jamie. “It’s time I spoke to the settlers and apprised them of what they should expect. If things don’t go our way, it might be better that they are housed in the stock room, the farthest building away from the line of fire.”
“Let’s hope it doesna’ come to that,” Jamie replied. “But it’s best to be prepared.”
Just as they reached the gates, the boom of a cannon assailed their ears and an explosion behind them had the horses rearing in terror as earth and stones rained down on them.
“The fool couldn’t even wait to get his cannon in range,” Matthew snarled, spurring his mount through the gates which he ordered closed as soon as they were inside. Dismounting, he handed the reins over to a soldier then climbed the steps to look out over the fortifications. He was joined by Lieutenants Barrows and Andrews and a short time later by Jamie.
“They’re priming the cannon for another shot, sir,” Andrews said.
Matthew nodded grimly. “Another wasted cannonball, but if they move it closer they might get our range.”
“Who’s your best marksman?” Jamie asked.
Matthew looked to his lieutenants. “Gentlemen?”
“Easily Private Fletcher, sir,” Barrows told him.
“What d’you have in mind, MacDonald?”
“Take the fusilier out, shake them up a bit. Let them know we’ll not stand by idly while they try to blow us to bits.”
Matthew chuckled. “Bring Private Fletcher up here, and make sure he’s armed.”
The cannon boomed again, the shot again falling short, but closer to the gates and they watched as Marchand ordered the cannon pushed forward.
“They might hit the gates this time, sir,” Andrews muttered.
Matthew turned at the sound of feet clattering up the steps. “Ah, Private Fletcher, we need to test your marksmanship.”
“Oh yes, sir?”
“Yes, the chap priming the cannon there. You think you could hit him from here?”
“Think so, sir.”
“Good. Do it before he takes out our gates.”
The private leveled his weapon, using the top of the wall to steady his aim. A moment or two passed and Matthew saw Jamie twitch with impatience. He glanced over at Matthew who nodded then stared straight ahead to where Marchand and several soldiers were positioned by the cannon.
“Any time now, soldier,” he murmured.
Fletcher fired and the fusilier manning the cannon fell back, clutching his chest.
“Well done, Private. Reload. They’re bound to have someone else have a go.” Sure enough, as the first fusilier was pulled away, another took his place. Fletcher fired again, felling the replacement fusilier. Matthew could hear Marchand screaming in frustration from where he stood. He smiled at Jamie who tapped Fletcher on the shoulder.
“Y’see the grand-looking fellow with all those feathers in his hat? Y’think you could maybe knock that off his head?”
Matthew roared with laughter. “Oh yes, Fletcher, do it. The man can’t hate us any more than he does now.”
“Righto, sir. Here we go.” His shot was true and it must have been close to the colonel’s head as he screamed with pain before toppling from his horse.
An excited clamor went up as the colonel’s men gathered around him and carried him off. His horse was led away and the cannon pulled back to its original position.
“Well, it looks like that’s it for the time being at any rate,” Matthew said, clapping Fletcher on the shoulder. “I have no doubt that Marchand will be looking for
revenge as soon as he’s gathered his wits. Barrows, have fifty of our soldiers man the ramparts and have them keep a sharp eye out for any movement of the cannon. They have my permission to shoot any soldier that goes near it. Thank the Lord there’s only one. Well done, MacDonald.”
Jamie followed the captain down the steps. “I’m going over to inform the colonel that the French are here,” Matthew told him. “He might have surmised it from the sound of cannon and rifle fire, but as a courtesy I’ll keep him up to date. No doubt he’ll rail at me as usual, but at least I’ll have witnesses to attest to the fact that I did not show him any disrespect…apart from keeping him locked up, that is.”
“Is he any better now that he’s off the drink?”
“No, worse I’d say. Perhaps the liquor helped quell his inherent bad temper. I have a feeling there’s something quite wrong with him…a trifle mad, I think.”
“I notice Nashoba is not with the other Choctaws,” Jamie said, not interested in the colonel’s dilemma.
“He has gone to the nearby villages to recruit help from able warriors should we need it. I reckon a surprise attack from the rear might throw some panic among the French ranks.”
“Good plan, although with that fool of a colonel in charge, I’d say we have a damn good chance of holding them off for longer than he’d expect. The man is rash and I can already tell prone to making bad decisions.”
“All the better for us.” They had reached the colonel’s cell where Lieutenant Barrows awaited him. “I’ll see you later, MacDonald. If you have any other ideas regarding harassing the enemy, I’d be glad to hear them.”
Jamie grinned. “Come nightfall, we might give them a wee surprise or two.”
* * * *
It seemed as if the earlier confrontation resulting in the French colonel being knocked from his horse, not to mention the deaths of two fusiliers, had cooled their ardor for a quick show of strength. They had withdrawn from their previous position and had set up camp. Tents had been pitched, and during the daytime troops were drilled in order to be battle ready.