Her flaming red hair fell across her shoulders and partially concealed her full breasts, nearly overflowing the low-cut bodice of her thin gown. She sensed me there and turned. “Danté—how delightful.” Her voice was light and musical as she came forward, her arms outstretched, her hands reaching for mine. I smiled at her. What male would not? As I put her hands to my lips, I thought of the human, Dunbar, and how he had kissed my enfant’s fingers; I felt a shift into irritation. I chastised myself. I was with the lovely Atha now, and that was what I had to concentrate on. “Playing in your garden?” It was a statement. I didn’t need a response, and she knew it. She laughed and linked her arm through mine. “Yes, but only out of boredom, although I do so love the flowers … and making arrangements myself.” I had to wonder how such a lovely Fae, with such gentle pursuits, could be so calculating and cunning … and I had reason to believe that she was. Still, I played her game.
