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help.’
    ‘Humour me.’
    Straightening and dangling her shoes from the fingers of one hand, Celia didn’t see why she should humour him in the slightest, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea because on reflection she’d made some pretty inaccurate assumptions about him today. Therefore she owed him at least one apology, and it would probably be less humiliating to do that on the move when she’d have an excuse to keep her eyes on the ground on the lookout for random tree roots waiting to trip her up.
    ‘OK, then,’ she said coolly. ‘Let’s walk.’
    ‘This way?’ he said, gesturing in the direction of the walled kitchen garden that would at least afford them privacy for the talk he wanted to have and the apology she had to give.
    ‘Fine.’
    They set off across the lawn and as the chatter of the guests and the music faded Celia felt her coolness ebb and her awareness of him increase. He was so tall, so broad and so solid and every time his arm accidentally brushed hers it threw up a rash of goosebumps over her skin and sent shivers down her spine.
    She sorely regretted taking off her shoes. They might be tricky to walk in, particularly over grass, but they’d added inches. Without them she felt strangely small despite the fact that she was well above average height, and a bit vulnerable, which, as she was the least vulnerable person she knew, was as ridiculous as it was disconcerting.
    She tried to distract herself by mentally formulating an apology that would let her keep at least a smidgeon of dignity, but it was no use. She couldn’t concentrate on anything except the man walking beside her. There was something so different about him at the moment. He seemed unusually tense. Controlled. Restrained. Maybe even a bit dangerous...
    Which was utterly absurd, she told herself firmly, shaking her head free of the notion. Not to mention idiotically fanciful. Marcus wasn’t dangerous. No. The only danger here was her because with every step she took away from the safety of the crowd she could feel the pressure inside her building and her self-control slipping.
    ‘You can relax, you know,’ he murmured, shooting her a quick smile that flipped her stomach and unsettled her even more.
    Suddenly totally unable to figure out how to handle the situation, she fell back on the way she’d always dealt with him and shot him a scathing look. ‘No, I can’t.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘You have to ask?’
    ‘Clearly.’
    She stopped. Planted a hand on her hip and glared at him, all the tension and confusion whipping around inside her suddenly spilling over. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, just get on with it, Marcus.’
    ‘Get on with what?’ he asked, drawing to a halt himself, a picture of bewildered innocence.
    ‘The “talk” you wanted to have. Come on, you must be dying to gloat about the sorry state of my love life, not to mention all the other things my father said.’
    He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked at her steadily. ‘I’m not going to do that.’
    She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, right. Why change the habit of a lifetime?’
    Marcus pulled his hands from his pockets and shoved them through his hair while sighing deeply. ‘Look, Celia,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest and pinning her to the spot with his dark gaze. ‘How about we try a ceasefire on the hostilities front?’
    For a moment she just stared at him because where on earth had that come from? ‘A ceasefire?’ she echoed, as taken aback as if he’d grabbed her and kissed her. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I’m sick of it.’
    She blinked, now blindsided by the weariness in his voice as well. ‘You’re sick of it?’
    ‘Aren’t you?’
    She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t. But then she closed it because hadn’t she been wishing the animosity between them didn’t exist only minutes ago? ‘Maybe,’ she conceded. ‘A bit.’
    ‘I suggest a truce.’
    ‘And how long do you think that would last? Five