Soft and cool velvet ruched between his fingers. It brought him back to her like a scent, like a cloud of her perfume in passing. She wore simple, practical clothing at all times, but luxuriated in velvet in her bed chamber. Memories of a deep night-blue coverlet of velvet draped over them both, the heat of her skin and the hot smell of their lovemaking in the room, settling like dust. Velvet and skin. The sheen of her auburn hair in the candlelight. The softness of her lips, just as velvety. God, how one sensation could bring such powerful memories. He had lived in poverty most of his life--poverty of means and poverty of spirit. But in the palace of her bed chamber he's felt like a king. A soft warm bed and the most incredible woman he had ever known, both his. For a time.

Even then, running the velvet through his hands and remembering all that had happened, he still could not fogive her. He understood why she had done it. Frankly, if he had been in a similar position with similar resources at his disposal, he wasn't sure he would have done differently. But he would have ASKED her. He would have talked to her first, to learn and understand her feelings about such an... execution. For that is what it was. She had executed a criminal in the most disarming way possible. She had drained the life from him while his guard was down. But it was the way she had done it without a moment's consideration for him that had soured it all.