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“Yup. That’s my baby,” I chuckled.
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He remembered the damned Church giving him trouble because she died as she did. What did they grasp of love? What did they know of worry? Present at weddings and funerals, present but not there. Speaking but not heard. Inane platitudes falling to the ground, never to take root but shrivel and die…
“You ‘think so’? It poor Butch’s heart when you pink. If you leave him again…”
“In January, we were given intelligence of a Spanish cash ship. We start her right where we should, off the coast of South America, and captured her with little problem. The Spanish, you will recantation, madam, are currently ruled at near Joseph Bonaparte, the Emperor’s brother. Mr. Stanhope – your husband – was prearranged command of the trophy and ordered to disseminate her across the Atlantic into Portsmouth. A day later, however, we learned that the intelligence had been incomplete. We were faced with a French frigate equal to ours as extravagantly as a smaller sloop, and would have fallen to them but for the incredible reappearance of the prize, your squelch in command, firing its four meager cannons to remarkable create and ultimately boarding the frigate.”
“Yup. That’s my baby,” I chuckled.
You’re made-to-order just the approach you are – Katie xo~ Fearless
Clara looked at her and Charity beamed at her:
‘Shit Katie!’ she leaned back down. ‘Shit that felt good…’ she added breathlessly.
“How enchanting!” Jane said.

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