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In the realm of fantasy, there were no problems. But real life was full of them—how could they build a partnership together if they couldn’t trulytalkto each other?

Caroline stirred and opened her eyes. “Hello, beautiful.”

Arabella banished all of her worries from her mind and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”

“Is it morning? I thought we would sleep until midafternoon at least.”

She laughed. “We could while our time away in bed until then, couldn’t we? The household must still be asleep after the goings-on last night.”

A furry orange blur leapt between them.

“Oh, Shelley!” Delighted, Arabella grabbed him and stroked behind his ears. “I haven’t seen him in ages. It looks like the Reeve household is treating him well.”

“He does all right for himself,” Caroline said, studying the cat. “Will and George take good care of him.”

Yet here he was in Caroline’s bedchamber, waiting until she awoke. Arabella hid her grin as she patted Shelley, who squirmed out of her hands to press his head against Caroline’s forehead with a meow.

“Off the bed, Shell.” She pushed him away, and he leapt back up.

“It appears that maybe you have a routine?”

“I certainly do not. Your cat is nothing but a fish-stealing miscreant.”

Arabella looked around the room. In the corner was a large pillow with a well-kneaded towel on it. “Is that why he has his own bed in your own bedchamber?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caroline muttered as Shelley continued to paw at her, then she relented. She picked up the cat, buried her head into the fur of his neck, and crooned nonsense to him as he purred.

Arabella fell back against the mattress, wheezing with laughter. “Fish-stealing miscreant indeed. More like beloved lap cat to one who always said she would never have such a creature in the house.”

Caroline poked her shoulder. “Fine, I admit it. He is beloved. Shelley is officially my favorite in the ongoing war in this family of which poet is best. But he’s still a pain when he wants to be. Always demanding attention when I least have it to give.”

“That reminds me. Where is my attention, I wonder?” She stretched on the bed and watched as Caroline’s eyes turned sharp.

They made love, slow and quiet and peaceful, which Arabella discovered was every bit as satisfying as the frantic rush that had marked their previous encounters.

After her heartbeat slowed and her mind cleared, Arabella screwed up her courage. “What are we doing?”

“I thought we were seeing where things lead us. Isn’t that what we agreed on? I don’t recall being handed a map.” Caroline pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Arabella shrank back. “I suppose I still don’t really know what is and isn’t possible between ladies. I only know—I want you.”

Caroline frowned. “Are you sure there isn’t something specific you want? I know how you dislike conflict.” She took her hands in her own and gazed into her eyes. “You deserve to say what is on your mind, and have it given weight and respect. I always want to hear what you think.”

“Then why aren’t we talking about the important things?” Arabella asked.

“What type of important things?”

“Your family, for instance.”

Caroline’s face became as impassive as the cliffs. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then why do you seem so much more worried these days than you used to?”

Chapter Eighteen

Arabella was adorable as she leaned forward with the sheet pulled up to her chest, her eyes wide without the cover of her spectacles. She was earnest and sincere and so impossibly optimistic, as if all of Caroline’s problems could be banished with the power of positive thought.

Caroline felt a wave of irritation wash over her. “You know why I worry. My siblings are a major responsibility and I take it seriously. You saw how they behaved last night.”