First Impressions

capabilities and my limitations. And,” she added, “I’m willing to stretch them both a bit to get what I want. It’s much smarter than thinking you’re something you’re not.” Before he could speak, she laughed, giving him a friendly hug. “No, no more philosophizing. I’ve done my share for the day. Come on, let’s go up in the tower. The view’s wonderful from there.” She was off in a sprint, pulling Vance with her. “You can see for miles,” she told him as they climbed the narrow iron steps.
    The light was dim though the sun shot through the small slits set in the sides of the stone tower. It grew brighter as they climbed, then poured through the opening at the top. “This is the part I like best,” she told him, while a few annoyed pigeons fluttered away from their roost in the roof. She leaned over the wide stone, pleased to let the wind buffet her face. “Oh, it’s beautiful, the perfect day for it. Look at those colors!” She drew Vance beside her, wanting to share. “Do you see? That’s our mountain.”
    Our mountain.
Vance smiled as he followed the direction of her hand. The way she said it, it might have belonged to the two of them exclusively. Beyond the tree-thick hills, the more distant mountains were cast in blue from the falling afternoon light. Farmhouses and barns were set here and there, with the more closely structured surrounding towns quiet in the early evening hush. Just barely, he could hear the whiz of a car on the highway. As he looked over a cornfield, he saw three enormous crows take flight. They argued, taunting each other as they glided across the sky. The air was very still after they passed, so quiet he could hear the breeze whisper in the dry stalks of corn.
    Then he saw the buck. It stood poised no more than ten yards from where Shane had parked her car. It was still as a statue, head up, ears pricked. Vance turned to Shane and pointed.
    In silence, hands linked, they watched. Vance felt something move inside him, a sudden sense of belonging. He wouldn’t have been amused now if Shane had said “our mountain.” Remnants of bitterness washed from him as he realized his answer had been staring him in the face. He’d kept himself a victim, just as Shane had said, because it was easier to be angry than to let go.
    The buck moved quickly, bounding over the grassy hill, taking a low stone fence with a graceful leap before he darted out of sight. Vance felt rather than heard Shane’s long, slow sigh.
    “I never get used to it,” she murmured. “Every time I see one, I’m struck dumb.”
    Shane turned her face up to his. It seemed natural to kiss her here, with the mountains and fields around them, with the feeling of something shared still on both of them. Above their heads a pigeon cooed softly, content now that the intruders were quiet.
    Here was the tenderness Shane had sensed but had not been sure of. His mouth was firm but not demanding, his hands strong but not bruising. Her heart seemed to flutter to her throat. Everything warm and sweet poured through her until she was limp and pliant in his arms. She had been waiting for this—this final assurance of what she knew he held trapped inside him: a gentle goodness she would respect as much as his strength and confidence. Her sigh was not of surrender, but of joy in knowing she could admire what she already loved.
    Vance drew her closer, changing the angle of the kiss, reluctant to break the moment. Emotions seeped into him, through the cracks in the wall he had built so long ago. He felt the soft give of her mouth, tasted its moist generosity. With care, he let his fingertips reacquaint themselves with the texture of her skin.
    Could she have been there all along, he wondered, waiting for him to stumble onto her through a curtain of bitterness and suspicion?
    Vance drew her against his chest, holding her tightly with both arms as if she might vanish. Was it too late for him to fall in love? he wondered. Or to win a woman who already knew the worst of him and had no notion of his material advantages? Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek on her hair. If it wasn’t too late, should he take the chance and tell her who and what he was? If he told her now, he might never be fully certain, if she came to him, that she came only to him. He needed that—to be taken for himself without the Riverton Banning fortune or power. He hesitated, torn and indecisive. That alone shook him. Vance was a man who ruled a