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Rhamante perched on a curtain wrinkle. His eyes were wide and dark, his skin pewter grey. Delicate lacey wings hung from his shoulders like a small, gossamer cape. His tiny pixie body trembled with tension, mouth drawn tight, his fidgety hands temporarily stilled. Rhamante's attention was entirely fixed on the human occupants of the room. Two humans, caught in a web of passion and denial. These were the kind of moments he lived for. This dance of desires drew him to it. As a blossom to the bees, Rhamante was pulled toward the nectars of the heart. He promised himself he'd just observe, but he was finding that oath impossible to keep after watching the denizens of this place for days. It was just too delicious to pass up. *** William glanced around the sitting room, eyes going wide. "Miss Rawlings, I thought the governess would be here . . . the maid sent me straight up." The room was sunny and open, and empty but for him and the young woman smiling up at him from her