‘Perch, of course. Bacon is excellent for perch, as you just witnessed.’
‘A veritable Izaak Walton,’ he teased. ‘Here, take your hook and line.’
He held both out to her and the act of stepping forward to take them brought her disturbingly close to him. She held out a tentative hand for the hook, but he shook his head, ‘No, on second thoughts, you are right, you have fished enough tonight.’ He secured the barb onto the reel and dropped the rod, then stood regarding her so intently that she became acutely conscious of the plain, worn gown, her hair all awry, the unruly curls falling about her cheeks.
'What are you looking at me like that for?' Antonia asked, her mouth suddenly dry. Encounters with this man in broad daylight were unsettling enough, but under the influence of the full moon she felt anything might happen.
There was amusement in the look he was giving her, but he was not laughing at her expense she sensed, rather the look was tender and appreciative and transformed his face, making him seem less harsh, more approachable. ‘Oh, I was just thinking how charmingly you smell… of fish.’
‘You – ’ She raised one hand, only for him to catch it lightly by the wrist.
‘Please, do not slap my face, not when you are covered with fish scales and slime.’ His voice was warm and insidious as he pulled her gently towards him, as if she too were a fish on a line.
Antonia found herself moving. ‘I really ought to wash my hands,’ she muttered ridiculously, irrelevantly.
‘No need, we can manage if you only keep them at your sides,’ he remarked dispassionately before bending his head to kiss her.
His mouth was moving around the curve of her upper lip, gently nibbling. Antonia gasped with the intimate shock of the sensation, but, to her own bafflement, made no attempt to break free. When he reached the fullness of her lower lip she capitulated utterly, tipping her face upwards. His hands still held hers captive at her sides, which made the embrace seem somehow more shocking, more disturbing.
‘I must come night fishing again. I would never imagine I would catch such a prize,’ Marcus murmured into her hair.
‘Marcus, I am not a fish,’ she protested into his coat front. But she had no desire to move out of the circle of his arms, away from the warmth and the strength that was evident even through his clothing. Did she feel like this because it was Marcus who was holding her, she wondered, or was it moon madness?
He sighed, his breath stirring the fine hair at her temple. ‘Agreeable as I find this, we cannot stand out here all night, Antonia. What will the redoubtable Miss Donaldson think has become of you?’
‘Nothing, I trust.’ Antonia, tried not to feel disappointed as he turned from her to collect up her fishing tackle and lantern. ‘She was asleep when I left, and I hope she still is.’
He took her arm, guiding her over the tussocky grass of the still-untamed pleasure grounds. ‘Then you came fishing on a whim? What an extraordinary woman you are.’ The lantern was attracting small moths, which rose from the lawn at their feet so that they appeared to be walking though a small cloud.
‘We cannot live on game alone and I thought fish would be a welcome variation.’ She glanced at him sideways to see how he took this reference to her licensed ‘poachers’.
‘I am not going to rise to your bait, Antonia. It is late and I am tired. I am resolved not to mention your poachers again, unless we find any on my land, not that I am happy with the example you are setting. But why do you not set that lad of yours to fishing? He has no doubt been doing it in my rivers half his life.’
So, he had decided to let that quarrel lie, she mused. Still, that did not explain why he had so unexpectedly come to her aid with the banker. ‘It sounds dangerously as if you are resigned to my remaining at Rye End Hall, Marcus.’
He stopped and looked at her, a moonlit glint that was not all amusement in his eye. ‘Take care, Antonia. You may have a penchant for angling, but do not try to fish for my motives. I told you I would not discuss them, that day in Berkhamsted.’
She was not going to let him think she was so easily discouraged. ‘It less than a week before that meeting that you were violently opposed to our remaining here and wished to buy my lands. Are you no longer interested in acquiring them?’
Marcus tucked her hand under his arm once more and carried on towards the house. ‘There is more than one way to skin a cat, Antonia,’ he remarked casually. When she gave a snort of exasperation he smiled faintly. ‘Now, which door did you come out by?’
‘The side door. It is unlocked.’
‘Have you no care for burglars?’
‘Burglars here, in the depths of the country, lurking on the off-chance that I would go fishing and leave the door open? If we are to talk of extraordinary behaviours, Marcus, why are you out at this hour? It must be all of half past two.’
‘A card party at Sir George Dover’s.’ He named a near neighbour of hers whose wife had already made her call of courtesy to Rye End Hall. ‘It was such a pleasant evening I walked over. But as you say, the hour is late. Goodnight, Antonia.’ He lifted her hand, kissed the back of her wrist, well away from her fish-scaled fingers, and strode off along the footpath into the moonlight towards Brightshill.
Antonia snuggled down in her bed ten minutes later and thought back on that extraordinary encounter. There was no doubting she had behaved most improperly, moonlight or not, but she could not regret allowing Marcus to kiss her. Again.
Her fingers, now mercifully free of fish, strayed to her lips, tracing where his mouth had roamed. Surely he was not simply toying with her affections? There was no denying that those were engaged, or if not affections, certainly something close. He was a gentleman, after all.
Yet that casual remark about skinning cats, his refusal to discuss his motives for helping her with the loan – those nagged at the back of her mind. She had refused to sell him her lands so had he now some other ploy in mind?
‘Oh, Donna, good news. Mr Blake writes to say they are most interested in my description of the property and my proposals for a lease.’