It had to be Ellasbeth. Crap. What was I supposed to do? Wipe the bubbles from my hand and offer to shake hers? Frozen, I stared at the door. My coat was on one of the chairs and my garment bag was still hanging by the changing screen. Pulse quickening, I wondered if I could reach the green towel before she realized she wasn't alone.
The faint rustling stopped, and I shrank down into the bubbles when she strode back in, house afire. Her dark eyes were narrowed in anger and her high cheekbones were red. Posture stiff, she halted, bag still over her arm and apparently forgotten. Her thick, waving blond hair was held back to give her narrow face a stark beauty. Lips tight, she held her head high, her eyes fixing vehemently upon me as soon as she cleared the archway.
So that's what it looked like when hell froze over.
"Who are you?" she said, her strong voice domineering and cold.
I smiled, but I knew it looked rather sickly. "Ah, I'm Rachel Morgan. Of Vampiric Charms?" I started to sit up, then changed my mind. I hated the question that had crept into my tone, but there it was. 'Course it might have been there because I was naked except for bubbles, and she was standing in four-inch heels and a casually tasteful outfit that Kisten might pick out for me if he took me shopping in New York.
"What are you doing in my bathtub?" She gazed disparagingly at my healing black eye.
I reached for a towel and dragged it in with me, covering myself. "Trying to warm up."
Her mouth twitched. "I don't wonder why," she said sharply. "He's a cold bastard."
I sat up in a rush of water as she walked out. "Trenton!" her voice rang out, harsh against the peace I had been wallowing in.
My breath puffed out, and I looked at the soaked towel clinging to me. Sighing, I got up and opened the drain with my foot. The water swirling about my calves settled and began to escape. Ellasbeth had thoughtfully left all the doors open, and I could hear her shouting at Trent. She wasn't far away. Perhaps as close as the common room. Deciding that as long as I could hear her out there, it was probably safe enough to get dried off in here, I wrung out the soaked towel and grabbed two new ones from the warmer.
"God save you, Trenton," came her voice, bitter and abusive. "Couldn't you even wait until I was gone before bringing in one of your whores?"
I reddened and my motions to dry my arms grew rough.
"I thought you had left," Trent said calmly, not helping matters. "And she's not a whore, she's a business associate."
"I don't care what you call her, she's in my rooms, you bastard."
"There wasn't anywhere else to put her."
"There are eight bathrooms this side of the wall, and you put her in mine?"
I was glad my hair was somewhat dry, and that it smelled like Ellasbeth's shampoo made me feel all peachy-keen. Hopping ungainly on one foot, I tried to get my underwear on, thankful I had only been wearing the nylons that I brought from home when I went into the drink. My skin was still damp and everything was sticking. I almost went down when my foot got stuck halfway into my jeans leg, and lurching, I caught myself against the counter.
"Damn you, Trenton! Don't even try to say that is business!" Ellasbeth was shouting. "There's a naked witch in my bathtub, and you're sitting in your robe!"
"No, you listen to me." Trent's voice was iron hard, and I could hear his frustration even from two rooms away. "I said she's a business associate, and that's what she is."
Ellasbeth made a harsh bark of laugher. "From Vampiric Charms? She told me the name of her bloodhouse herself!"
"She's a runner, if it's any of your business," Trent said so coldly I could almost see his clenched jaw. "Her partner is a vampire. It's a play on words, Ellasbeth. Rachel was my security escort tonight, and she fell into the river saving my life. I wasn't going to drop her at her office half dead from hypothermia like an unwanted cat. You told me you were taking the seven o'clock flight out. I thought you were gone, and I wasn't about to put her in my rooms."
There was a moment of silence. I shimmied into my sweatshirt. Somewhere on the bottom of the river was several thousand dollars of soft ribbon gold from Randy's coiffure and one earring. At least the necklace had survived. Maybe the charm worked only on the necklace.
"You were on that boat…. The one that blew up…" Itwas softer, but there wasn't a hint of apology in her sudden concern.
In the silence, I fumbled at my hair, grimacing. Maybe if I had half an hour I could do something with it. Besides, there was no way to recover from the first stellar impression I'd made. Taking a steadying breath, I squared my shoulders and padded in my sock feet to the common room. Coffee. I could smell coffee. Coffee would make everything better.
"You can understand my confusion," Ellasbeth was saying as I hesitated by the door, unnoticed but able to see them. Ellasbeth stood beside the round table in the breakfast nook, looking meek in the way a tiger looks when it realizes it can't eat the man with the whip. Trent was seated, wearing a green robe edged in maroon. There was a professional-looking bandage on his forehead. He looked bothered—as he should with his fiancée accusing him of cheating.
"That's the closest to an apology I'm going to get, isn't it?" Trent said.
Ellasbeth dropped the department store bag and put a hand on her hip. "I want her out of my rooms. I don't care who she is."
Trent's eyes fell on mine as if drawn to them, and I winced apologetically. "Quen is taking her home after a light dinner," he said to her. "You're welcome to join us. As I said, I thought you had left."
"I changed to a vamp flight so I could shop longer."
Trent glanced back at me again to tell Ellasbeth that they weren't alone. "You spent six hours in the stores and have only one bag?" he said, the faintest accusation in his voice.
Ellasbeth followed his gaze to me, quickly masking her anger with a pleasant expression. But I could see her frustration. It remained to be seen how it would show itself. I was betting on hidden barbs and slights disguised as compliments. But I would be nice as long as she was.
Smiling, I came out in my jeans and Howlers sweatshirt. "Hey, uh, thanks for the pain amulet and letting me get cleaned up, Mr. Kalamack." I stopped beside the table, the awkwardness as thick and choking as bad cheesecake. "No need to bother Quen. I'll call my partner to come and get me. She's probably banging on your gatehouse already."
Trent made a visible effort to purge the anger from his posture. Elbows on the table so the sleeves of his robe fell to show the fair hair upon his arms, he said, "I'd rather have Quen take you home, Ms. Morgan. I don't particularly want to talk to Ms. Tamwood." He glanced at Ellasbeth. "Do you want me to call the airport for you, or are you staying another night?"
It was entirely devoid of any invitation. "I'll be staying," she said tightly. Bending at the waist, she picked up her bag and walked to her door. I watched her quick stilted steps, seeing in them a dangerous combination of callous disregard and ego.
"She's an only child, isn't she?" I said as the sound of her heels was lost on the carpet.
Trent blinked, his lips parting. "Yes, she is." Then he gestured for me to sit. "Please."
Not really sure I wanted to eat with the two of them, I gingerly sat on the chair opposite Trent. My gaze went to the fake window spanning the entirety of the wall that the small, nearby sunken living room took up. It was just after eleven according to the clocks I had seen, and it was dark with no moon. "Sorry," I said, my gaze flicking to the archway to Ellasbeth's rooms.
His jaw tightened for an instant, then relaxed. "Can I get you some coffee?"