His breath upon her ear was warmer than the midsummer air through which they moved, but somehow it lifted the tiny hairs on the back of her neck as she followed the smooth and practiced lead of his footsteps. Turning her head gently, her cheek prickled with the closeness of his skin, nearly touching, and her heart fluttered like a trapped dove.<br/><br/>"Would that I had a way to stop time for you, milord," she whispered back, pausing to inhale, pulling air across his own ear as there came a sudden turn in the dance, her costume wings fluttering behind her. "I would do so gladly, to continue this dance."