This time April was prepared, and she didn’t so much as flinch. Cora glanced round. ‘Now, if there’s anyone else you have your eye on for an interview I’m happy to introduce you!’
For an insane moment April wanted to refuse, to remain near Marcus. The idea of socialising sent a shiver of anxiety over her skin. During her ill-fated marriage there had been parties aplenty, and she’d grown to loathe them. Dean’s critical, watchful gaze had made her clumsy by default, filched all possible enjoyment from the event.
But she wasn’t here with Dean, and once, in the dim and distant past before him, April had loved parties—had revelled in being in good company, exchanging ideas, dancing, talking, having fun. That April seemed like a stranger now—someone it was truly impossible for her to believe had been herself. Perhaps tonight she could find an echo of that carefree girl...
Squaring her shoulders, she nodded. ‘Thank you, Cora. I’d like that.’
* * *
Marcus’s gaze lingered on the graceful sway of April’s walk, on the natural poise that nonetheless held a hint of trepidation. How he knew that, he wasn’t sure—but he did, and for a moment the urge to follow her nearly overcame his common sense.
‘You like her.’ Rafael’s words were not a question, and Marcus turned to face him.
‘She is a writer, on a mission to interview the “real” Marcus Alrikson. You know how I feel about the press.’
‘Yet you like her. You should act on it, my friend.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘Just because you have succumbed to wedded bliss, don’t try and pull the rest of us in.’
Rafael smiled. ‘Once that is how I felt. Then somehow Cora...she changed my mind and I have no regrets. And now with the baby... I feel truly blessed.’
A twinge of something perilously close to envy pinched a nerve, and Marcus blinked in irritated recognition of the emotion. This was nuts. No way did he want a family—he knew his own limitations and was more than happy to abide by them.
Rafael was shaking his head, almost as if he were questioning his own good fortune. ‘Who would have thought it? Not me a couple of years ago—I can tell you that. So, my advice to you? If you like her, at least admit it to yourself.’
‘It’s not a question of liking her or not.’ Now he sounded defensive. ‘In three days’ time she will go her way and I will go mine. End of.’
Rafael raised one dark brow but forbore from comment.
As if to prove his point Marcus made sure to circulate the room—though it took more effort than seemed strictly necessary not to check on April’s whereabouts. But he forced himself to succeed, and it was only when a gong was struck to announce dinner that he glimpsed her again as she headed to their table.
Once they were seated, waiters circled with unobtrusive discretion so that it seemed as if wine and food appeared almost magically. A starter that combined baby artichokes with figs and huge tasty almonds was followed by a traditional paella that glistened with saffron-coated rice, embedded with enormous clams and bright red peppers.
Marcus was soon monopolised by a man with decided views on Lycander’s overseas policies, but even as he focused on keeping his temper he felt a sudden tension still April’s body, and realised she was no longer a participant in the general hum and chatter of the table.
Fragments of conversation drifted towards him.
‘We just can’t decide whether to have another baby or not...’
‘How many are you on?’
‘Three, but they are all so adorable and they seem to get better as they grow older.’
‘Mind you, I sometimes think teenagers are more work than toddlers...’
‘So amazing to watch them grow into people, if you know what I mean...’
And then, ‘April, I am so sorry—you must be bored stupid. Unless, of course, you have children?’
Her leg clenched next to his, so tightly his own muscles ached in sympathy, and surely the silence stretched just a little too long before she answered.
‘No, I don’t. But, truly, don’t stop on account of me. I’m a lifestyle writer, after all, so it’s interesting for me to hear how all of you mix motherhood, your jobs and celebrity.’
The words were casual, and yet instinct prompted him to lean in. ‘I can see a way to combine our conversations. I’d be very interested to hear your views on education...’
And from there the conversation flowed around a plethora of topics, from school reminiscences to weddings.
Throughout, April deflected all attempts to elicit any personal information about her life, whilst garnering plentiful knowledge about others. So by the time the last decadent spoonful of dessert had been scooped up, and Rafael had risen to his feet to make a speech, Marcus knew no more about April than he had before.