“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.

Trent exhaled. Putting my feet on the floor, I made a wry face. “She’s nice.”

His expression went sour. “No she isn’t, but she’s going to be my wife. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t imply anymore that we are sleeping together.”

I smiled, a real one this time. “I just wanted her to leave.”

Maggie bustled close, putting down table settings and taking away Ellasbeth’s teacup and saucer. “Nasty, nasty woman,” she muttered, her motions quick and sharp. “And you can sack me if you want, Mr. Kalamack, but I don’t like her and I never will. You watch. She’ll bring some woman with her who will take over my kitchen. Rearrange my cupboards. Push me out.”

“Never, Maggie,” Trent soothed, his posture shifting to a companionable ease. “We all have to make the best of it.”

“Oh, worra, worra, worra,” she mumbled as she made her way back into the kitchen.

Feeling more relaxed now that Ellasbeth was gone, I took another sip of that wonderful coffee. “She’s nice,” I said, looking at the kitchen.

His green eyes boyishly soft, he nodded. “Yes, she is.”

“She’s not an elf,” I said, and his eyes jerked to mine. “Ellasbeth is,” I added, and his look went closed again.

“You’re getting uncomfortably adept, Ms. Morgan,” he said, leaning away from me.