"Take a good look about ye...." His words trailed off as he captured her with his gaze. "....Sabine?"
She had not taken him from her sight.
"Well? Take a look I'd hope ye'd be a wee bit impressed."
Sabine did not move.
A breeze tossed the thick, cinnamon locks of Niall's hair about the angles of his face. The ends brushed his strong chin, touching now and then the shallow cleft in the center. The early morning sun brought out an enchanting array of reds, oranges, and golds in his hair. If she ventured to count the many hues, she would be an old woman before she finished.
Niall creased his brow. "I thought ye'd like the view."
She did very much.
He turned away from her and plopped dejectedly down on an outcropping of stone, like a little boy.
Sabine smiled and kept sudden thoughts close to herself. She suspected that Niall had brought her here for more than the view. She allowed herself to muse of passion released while their bodies were cradled in the heather, their cries of rapture as she gave herself freely to a man as mysterious and free-spirited as the mist that opened before her. The mist that opened to reveal a glimpse of Heaven....
"Sweet Saint Giles!" Sabine stumbled backward. Niall was there to catch her in the strong embrace of his arms.
Beauty, that she had missed since she left France, was defined for her.
