On the ninth day of Christmas Anita gave to me . . .

A sweet tidbit from the Captain’s Rose . . .


Once the outside door had closed, Jayce stepped quietly into the kitchen to see Kate sitting at the table, her head pressed into her hands.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and she shot her head up.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking the other way. “Were you eavesdropping, then?”
“I confess that I was. Which makes us even on that count.” He pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “I had noticed him watching you, and I . . . didn’t want you to come to any harm.”
“Ah, he’d never harm me; he’s a good man, in truth. A man of significant wealth, but like his father before him, he seems to prefer the company of the common people.”
“A man I should like to know better, then,” he said, and Kate looked hard into his eyes. He could almost hear her giving the same definition to him, and he couldn’t deny that it was true.
She glanced away and laughed. “I suppose I should be flattered by his affection for me, but . . .”
“But you don’t love him,” Jayce said when her words trailed off.
“No,” she said, seeming mildly embarrassed, “I don’t love him. But perhaps he’s right.”
“About what?”
“Perhaps at my age I should consider marrying for money a fair offer. I believe he’d treat me well.”
“But is that enough?”