Sitting up, I tucked my legs under me to sit cross-legged, running my finger across the rim of the mug suggestively. “He was such a cub when he was younger, full of fire and spirit. I had to fight him off, the dear boy. That’s where he got that scar on his lower arm.”

I looked at Trent. “I can’t believe you haven’t told Ellasbeth! Trent, you aren’t still embarrassed about that, are you?”

Ellasbeth’s eye twitched, but her smile never faltered. Maggie set a delicate looking cup full of an amber liquid by her elbow and quietly walked away. Her carefully shaped eyebrows high, Ellasbeth took in Trent’s silent posture and his lack of denial. Her fingertips made one rolling cadence against the table in agitation. “I see,” she said, then stood. “Trenton, I do believe I will catch a flight out tonight after all.”

Trent met her gaze. He looked tired and a bit relieved. “If that is what you want, love.”

She leaned close to him, her eyes on me. “It’s to give you the chance to settle your affairs—sweetness,” she said, her lips shifting the air about his ear. Still watching me, she lightly kissed his cheek. There was no feeling in her eyes beyond a vindictive glint. “Call me tomorrow.”

Not a flicker of emotion crossed Trent. Nothing. And its very absence chilled me. “I’ll count the hours,” he said, his voice giving no clue either. Both of their eyes were on me as his hand rose to touch her cheek, but he didn’t kiss her back. “Should Maggie pack up your tea?”

“No.” Still watching me, she straightened, her hand lingering possessively on his shoulder. The picture they made was both beautiful and strong. And united. I remembered the reflection of Trent and me at Saladan’s boat. Here was the bond that had been lacking between us. It wasn’t love, though. It was more of … My brow furrowed… . a business merger?

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel,” Ellasbeth said, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “And thank you for accompanying my fiancé tonight. Your services are undoubtedly well-practiced and appreciated. It’s a shame he won’t be calling upon them again.”

I leaned across the table to shake her offered hand with a neutral pressure. I think she had just called me a whore—again. I suddenly didn’t know what was going on. Did he like her, or didn’t he? “Have a nice flight out,” I said.

“I will. Thank you.” Her hand slipped from mine and she drew a step back. “Walk me to the car?” she asked Trent, her voice smooth and satisfied.

“I’m not dressed, love,” he said softly, still touching her. “Jonathan can take your bags.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her, and I flashed her a catty smile. Turning, she walked out to the hallway overlooking the great room. “Jonathan?” she called, her heels clacking.

My God. The two played mind games with each other as if it was an Olympic sport.