He led her forward. When she crouched, he held onto herarisaidlest she lose her balance and fall into the river. After she washed the dirt and mud from her hands and face, she drank several gulps of the icy, fresh-tasting water. Then he helped her stand again.
"Better?" he asked.
"Aye." She dried her face and hands on her wool arisaid.
After washing his hands, he led her away from the river. "We can sit here." He helped lower her to the ground where he'd spread his plaid. "I'm sorry I have no food for you this morn. Ethan was unable to find any."
"I'm fine. I grew used to not eating as much during the journey."
"Becoming accustomed to the blindness must have been far harder. How did you do it?"
"Indeed, but I had no choice. I started listening more and noticing scents." Not long after her injuries, she remembered waking up at times and hearing male voices in the hallway outside the door of her chamber. Fear riveting her, she'd strained her ears to hear what was being said, but couldn't quite make it out. "'Twas a matter of survival."
Colin sat down beside her. "I'm sorry you had to suffer through that. Blackburn should be horsewhipped."
She nodded. "I pray you will not feel sorry for me."
"I don't," Colin assured her. "I admire your strength and determination."
Her heart swelled with gratitude at his kind words. "'Tis times like this I miss my sight most."
"During times of danger?"
"That, too, but… more because I can't see you." She smiled and averted her face, wondering how forthright she could be with him. Very rarely in her life had she been around a man she found compelling and exciting. Should she sit in fear or tell him what she really thought? She had never been one to let fear rule her.
"You must be a handsome man," she said.
He chuckled. "I have no inkling whether you would think so or not."
Her face heated, and she found herself smiling at the sound of his warm laugh. Though he had kissed her the night before, she had not thought to trace her fingers over his face to feel what he looked like. She well knew he didn't have a beard or mustache and that his lips had a sensual shape. But that was the extent of it.
This seemed a strange and suspended moment in time which was completely different from her normal life. She felt like being even bolder than she usually would be.
"Can I… find out?" she wondered.
"What do you mean?"
"Could I touch your face?"
He was silent for a long moment, then gruffly said, "Aye, if you wish."
She hesitated, uncertain as to why he'd paused. What was he thinking? "That is… if you don't mind."
"Not at all." He sounded more convincing that time.
On the plaid, she arose to her knees, hoping her hands wouldn't tremble with nerves. She trailed her fingers from his shoulders up his muscular neck and found that his thick hair fell a couple of inches below his collar. "What color is your hair?" she whispered, suddenly feeling the intimacy of the moment.
"Sandy brown," he murmured.
"Were you blond as a lad?"
"Aye."
"What color are your eyes?"
"Gray."
"That sounds like an interesting color." She did not recall seeing a man with gray eyes before. Were they like steel or slate… or silver? "Light or dark?"
