“No!” Rosalie squeals, letting go of her hand to reach down and tickle her.
Catherine shrieks in surprise and they both go still, eyes flying to the doors. But no one comes in.
“Christopher will facilitate talking, and genteel outings for us, is what I meant,” Rosalie says, her voice softer.
Catherine’s other hand comes to rest on Rosalie’s hip, toying with the fabric of her still rucked-up skirt. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Rosalie says, smiling when Catherine laughs.
They sit for a minute, fingers roaming innocently, simplybasking in the stillness of being so close to each other. She wants to kiss Catherine again, of course, but she wants to sit like this too. To be alone, and calm, and simply together.
“And if we should want more time... like this?” Catherine asks, her hand trailing down to rest on Rosalie’s thigh. Still innocent, but tempting, taunting.
“We’ll go shopping again. Or walking. Or... anything that could need an afternoon respite afterward,” Rosalie decides.
Catherine smiles slowly. “I’ll convince my mother that I’m going to convince you into an unflattering dress, or that I’ve gotten close enough to you to gather real, meaningful intelligence...”
“So your motheristrying to sabotage me,” Rosalie confirms.
Catherine bobs her head back and forth. “Your mother, really. But you’ve been the... main target, yes. For which I apologize.” She hesitates before adding, “Though it has been just the slightest bit fun?”
Rosalie snorts, which makes Catherine grin. “I should probably be more insulted, but ithasbeen rather fun.”
“I’ve been trying to get her to let it go, but she’s rather... determined. I still don’t fully understand it.”
The idea of her family’s secrets burrows against Rosalie’s stomach, threatening to pop through the bubble of the delightful afternoon they’ve been having. She doesn’t even have enough information to explain if she wanted to—and shepromised. So she’ll figure out a way to explain later. When she’s not in Catherine’s lap. When she can think clearly, instead of wasting this precious moment—
She leans down to kiss Catherine again, letting her worries melt away, for now. Catherine is so soft against her mouth, beneath her hands. So supple and lovely. What’s another five, or ten, minutes of kissing, really?
“I wish we could do away with the entire charade of it,” Catherine says when Rosalie finally pulls back... clearly far too many minutes later, given the beautiful way Catherine’s lips are lightly swollen.
“Which charade?” Rosalie asks hazily.
“Pursuing Mr.Dean, as if he’s some great prize,” Catherine says, a pout gracing those plump, pink lips.
She’s certainly more coherent than Rosalie feels at this moment.
“But my mother is absolutely hellbent on me... winning him. I wish I could get her to focus on anyone else. Not—not that Iwantsomeone else,” she adds quickly.
The hazy, warm, trickly feeling in Rosalie’s chest grows larger. “I know,” Rosalie says softly.
She doesn’t know what this is, not really. But she doesn’t want anyone else either. Not now that she knows what it feels like to touch Catherine, to taste her, to be with her like this, quiet and private and lovely.
What else there could be for them together is a question for a more cogent, alert, contemplative Rosalie.
But something Catherine’s said pokes at Rosalie’s kiss-happy mind. “Why don’t we just make the best of it, then. Steer into their obsessive competition?”
“Submit ourselves tomoreof Mr.Dean?” Catherine asks, looking genuinely horrified.
“Pretend to submit ourselves to more of his... charming company. The outings with Christopher could be double outings. We can... I don’t know, pretend to fight over him, and then Christopher can walk him away when we get too heated and we can just... talk, or not, or...” Rosalie trails off, frowning.
The logistics need some finessing, but it would at least bemore time together, to decide what exactly more of each other would look like.
“My mother’s just barely allowing this overnight trip to Blaise Castle, and only because my father said yes before she could stop him. She—” Catherine breaks off, looking up at Rosalie, biting at her lip.
It’s an unreasonably fetching look. “What?”
“She thinks that being alone with just you and Mr.Dean puts me at a disadvantage, because you have the wealth to always look better than everyone else,” Catherine says sheepishly.
