Chapter 3: Stoke Me

Elizabeth continued to funnel her father's swords in need of repair to Will, sending for a carriage to ferry her to the blacksmith's shop as often as she could. Her husband was working longer and longer nights in the garrison, sometimes sleeping in his office. Elizabeth would wait up for him some nights, only to be disappointed by the time her eyes grew heavy with sleep and she drifted off herself.

"My father wishes that you pay his compliments to your master," she informed Will one day, delivering to him a sword with a basket-hilt.

Will slowly beamed at her, pleased. "I shall! …. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated."

Very soon, Elizabeth was starting to run out of metallurgy ornamentals to ferry to Will. Swords in both her father's and her households now gleamed and glittered perfectly where they hung ostentatiously on the walls when not in use.

One afternoon, Will had finished work on a broadsword for her and was close to completing repairs on a prized, jeweled dagger that her husband favored. As he worked, Elizabeth found herself staring at all the other swords hanging about.

"Are all of these orders?" she marveled, hoping that Will was not being backlogged by work, especially seeing as his master seemed to hardly ever help.

Will glanced up. "No. Some of them belong to the shop. During seasons when work is slow, I use them to practice my trade, and also to practice…" His voice trailed off suddenly.

"What?" Elizabeth searched his eyes. "What is it?"

She was entranced to see how he blushed. "Sometimes I use them to practice my swordsmanship."

"You mean fencing?" Elizabeth asked. A mad thought suddenly struck her. "Could you teach me?"

"To fence or to smith?" he frowned, amused.

She laughed gaily. "The former."

He seemed shocked. She half-expected him to say something about how it was unladylike for a woman to know how to fence – it was just the sort of thing James might say readily.

Except Will did not. He merely appraised her up and down in her skirts. "I'd be most concerned that you aren't dressed for it – a skirt like that could limit your range of movement."

"You don't doubt my skill, then?" Elizabeth was shocked with herself at how she seemed to be…. flirting with him.

"Not at all. Though I daresay your skill remains to be seen. Very well, then." He crossed to a nearby rack and carefully selected two blades, one of which he tossed to Elizabeth. She barely caught it, taken by surprise.

"Get into your stance."

She frowned, perplexed. "What does that mean?"

"Your stance, your footwork! Like this!" And he placed both his feet in a wide kind of lunge.

Elizabeth attempted to copy him. She managed, but only just barely. Will was right – a hoopskirt was not conducive to practice fencing in.

"Always keep your blade up, at all times: the worst thing a swordsman can be is complacent," Will warned.

She nodded, wanting more than anything to prove herself to him.

Will suddenly jousted forward, and Elizabeth let out a shriek, barely bringing her blade up to block in time.

Will grinned, eyes sparkling. "A tad reserved, perhaps, but good! Your instincts are fine enough. But you should always be on your guard. Try to anticipate my movements."

He went in for an overhead strike, and this time Elizabeth was ready for him. She had to plant her rear foot back in order to maintain balance. She felt the strength behind every motion, and the pressure of their blades as they connected.

Back and forth, the Commodore's wife and the blacksmith's apprentice jousted like this. At a few points, Elizabeth boldly went on the attack. She was thrilled in those moments when she seemed to catch Will off-guard.

"Excellent initiative, but be precise in your movements! A sword should never be wobbled about sloppily!"

"Sloppily, say you?" Elizabeth's eyes danced, only to barely parry a lunge from Will in time.

Her foot, shifting backwards, caught on the hem of her hoopskirt and she lost her balance, staggering back across the dirt floor.

"Elizabeth!" Will cried, lurching forward in an attempt to catch her.

One of the pylons managed to break her fall. Next moment, Will had nearly crashed into it and her, the inertia of his trying to catch her carrying him forward.

They both stared at each other, panting and out of breath, their faces now inches apart.

"I…. I should…." Elizabeth felt her breasts heaving like a bellows under the bodice and corset of her dress. "I should say thank you…"

"You don't have to," Will replied slowly.

Her eyes darted to his lips, and for one mad second, she wondered what it would be like if she were to kiss him. But then Will gentlemanly moved away from her, and he didn't see.

Before long, both the Swann and Norrington households had had every sword in their respective collections repaired and restored to glory. At a loss for any way to return to the blacksmith's shop to see the man who had become her friend, Elizabeth found herself sinking into a kind of depression. Though James, her husband, was now home more often from the garrison, his making love to her in their marriage bed did nothing to help. All Elizabeth could think about was that one moment in the smithing shop when Will had had his arms around her, with her nearly pinned between him and that pylon.

One evening, she was staring piningly out the window of the estate, twisting her mother's ring this way and that along her finger.

She found that it was loose.

Brightening with hope, she summoned for a coach. James was still at work at the garrison, but she supposed that she would be back in plenty of time for the servants to present dinner.

Quickly, she rode to the smithing shop. The workhouse was quiet, and Will was just hanging up some of his tools. He turned with surprise, a smile breaking like the dawn onto his face.

"Elizabeth…."

"Good evening, young Master Will. I…" Elizabeth bit her lip, twisting her mother's ring on her finger. "My mother's ring is loose. I'd like to have it resized."

Will's smile turned bemused. "Wouldn't that be more of a job for the jeweler?"

"He's closed."

Will nodded. "I can fix that, then."

Elizabeth removed the ring from her finger, and watched quietly as Will took it to his forge. It took him several minutes, with him pausing at one point to ask for her hand – her ring finger, more specifically. Making a loop around it with his own fingers, he checked the size, then went back to his work.

At last, he presented her mother's ring to her. Very slowly, he slid it onto her finger.

Will lifted his head, and they locked eyes. "It's a perfect fit," he breathed.

Elizabeth nodded, suddenly blinking back tears.

"Elizabeth….?"

"Oh, Will!" And forgetting herself, she threw her arms about his neck. "My heart is breaking!"

Will softly rubbed her back. "I know of no blacksmith who can mend broken hearts."

She drew back, peering at him. "I know of one. This one can."

Her decision made, she drew the handsome blacksmith close and kissed him, full on the mouth.

Will froze in her embrace for only a moment before he was suddenly stealing his arms about her. He dazedly kissed her back. Elizabeth sighed as she melted into the kiss, her fingers dreamily playing with his dark curls that she had always secretly wondered about, and his ponytail.

They broke apart at last noisily, and Will seemed stunned and horrified at what they had just done.

Elizabeth, however, was exhilarated. Taking his hand at her waist, she deliberately guided it down to feel up her buttocks through her skirts. She felt Will nearly choke.

"No, Elizabeth!" he cried, trying to maintain his sense of honor. "We cannot do this…."

"I want to," she held his gaze solemnly, making him grip her bum, and he shivered.

"But your…"

She shook her head. "I don't care," she hissed with relish.

All the same, it still astonished when Will suddenly gave in to his own instincts, dropping the hand at her bum lower still to suddenly grip her thigh and lift it up, to curl it over his hip.

Elizabeth spluttered at his boldness. "Mr. Turner!" she yelped. "I…. I shall scream!"

She trembled at how the man's eyes had darkened considerably, and she suddenly felt dampness flood her undergarments. "If you must, you must. You may. I should like to hear you scream in pleasure."

Gulping, Elizabeth drew away from him, slowly lowering herself into a nearby pile of hay. Awed, Will moved on top of her, and he reverently began to roll her skirts back along her legs, bunching them up over her hips.

Elizabeth was now struggling for every breath, and neither her bodice nor her corset were helping her to get what little air she was managing. She tore at her clothes, wrenching both the bodice and corset down.

"Help…. Help me…." she pleaded, when it became a struggle to reach around for the hooks at the back. Will was only too eager to do so.

When the top half of her garments fell away, the blacksmith apprentice stared in wonder at Elizabeth's bare breasts, the nipples purpling and budded and aching.

Kissing him sweetly, Elizabeth drew Will's head close so his mouth could latch on to her breast.

"Taste me," she pleaded.

He obeyed her, and tilting her head, Elizabeth let out a moan. With shaking fingers, she began to unbutton his trousers, easing the pantaloons down to his ankles.

By now, Will was bucking against her, and Elizabeth shivered as she felt a large and bloated thing strain towards her entrance, lining up with it.

The couple locked eyes. Did they dare?

….. They did, and Will slowly pushed inside of her. He mated with her, and Elizabeth let out a whimper. Kissing lazily, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment, Will and Elizabeth began to rock against each other, working up a rhythm and kissing languorously as they joined in doing they dirty deed. They played the Beast with Two Backs.

Elizabeth arched her back and cried out at a particularly ardent thrust from her paramour.

"Ugggh….. Huhhhhh….. Uhhhhhh….. Hmmmmmm….. Mmmmm…. W-will…"

Will grunted and began to drive into her harder. His manliness was like the poker he used to stoke the fires of his forgery. And now he was stoking her. Elizabeth groaned with delight, feeling a heat build back behind her core. Seizing his buttocks in her fists, she began to hump him back, feeling entirely unladylike and relishing in it. She had never been so carefree in bed, before and certainly never with James. Never….

Will was a much more gentle lover, and Elizabeth marveled at how a man who made such a rough living could be so tender. Will thrust into her again, and she let out a choking sound.

"I'm….. I'm going to cum! Oh, Will, please – please, I beg of you, please don't stop, or I'll scream! I'll….. Ahhhhhh….. AHHHHHHH!... AHHHHHHHHH! Ah – ahhhhhhhh….."

She was brought to orgasm, and she embraced Will tightly, urging him on until with a grunt and a murmur, he too ejaculated, and deep inside her. Sweaty and spent and dazed, her brain spinning on a high of pleasure, Elizabeth dug her fingers into Will's rippling shoulder blades. Her body felt as though it was signing, and she sang with it:

"Ahhhhh, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee! Ahhhh, at last I know the secret of it all! ….."

Will grunted, and tentatively resumed making love to her.

At one point, Brown woke up from his drunken stupor in the corner by the wooden wheel. Lifting his head, his eyes unfocused, his vision began to clear just enough to see eager movement in the hay bales just a few feet away.

A lady's high-pitched cries, followed by a man's grunts. The best that he could make out, the outlines showed a woman with her skirts nearly pushed up over her head, bucking into a man who now mounted her, mating with her from behind.

"Oh….. OHHHHHH! Oh, Mr. Turner…. Oh, yes, Will!…." the woman sighed with pleasure and ecstasy.

Brown got a dazed, stupid smile on his face. Good on him, the smart lad!

He drooped his head back to the floor and drifted back into unconsciousness again.