“Come with me ... that is, if you are not frightened.”
“I am not frightened, my lord, where you are.”
And her heart throbbed in her throat, but not with fear.
They went past the sleeping guards and left the circle of the watch-fires. She nearly stumbled over the creepers and stones; and he said:
“Give me your hand.”
It was the first time that his hand had met hers. He had never touched her before. When she felt the warm strength of his hand around her own small hand, hers lay passive like a captive dove.
“Why are you trembling so?” he asked.
“I don’t know, my lord,” she stammered.
He smiled and did not speak again.
They climbed the rocky height and he helped her, with his fingers still grasping hers. He even put his arm round her slim waist, to support her, and he felt that she was still trembling, as in a fever.