Masquerade (12 page)

Jason took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. The last five years had been the happiest he had ever known. He had stood beside Leanne and watched the sun rise over the Grand Canyon, sat beside her on a sandy white beach in Hawaii and watched the waves lap at the shore. He grinned at the memory. He had sat there so long he'd gotten one hell of a sunburn. But even that had felt good.

He had watched Leanne's body swell with new life, stood at her bedside the morning Kristi Lynn had been born, felt his heart swell with awe when the doctor had placed his daughter in his arms. He had been there when Kristi took her first wobbly steps, uttered her first word, run alongside her the day she had learned to ride a bike.

He had turned to writing again, surprised and pleased when he sold his first book in years, a novel about a vampire who yearned to be a man again. He had written three other books since then, each of which had received rave reviews. His favorite quote hung on the wall behind his desk.
Jason Blackthorne's vampires are so realistic, so vividly drawn, one would think he wrote from personal experience.

Jason stood, applauding loudly when Kristi Lynn finished her solo. When the recital was over, they went out for hot fudge sundaes to celebrate.

Later that night, standing beside Kristi's bed while Leanne tucked her in, he thanked a generous and forgiving God for granting him a second chance at life.

The End

About the Author

Amanda Ashley
enjoys writing, particularly in the genre of Historical Romance and delves into the world of the paranormal and romantic fantasy. She resides in California, where she was born and raised.

Also writing as
Madeline Baker
,
she is one of the most popular authors of Native American romance and has written numerous bestsellers.

For more information about all her wonderful books, please visit her website at http://www.madelinebaker.net/

Other works from Amanda Ashley
presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery:

Sandy's Angel

Jessie's Girl

The Music of the Night

http://rebeccajvickery.com

Or try these Western stories from Madeline Baker:

Seize the Lightning

Capture the Lightning

Catch the Lightning

Passion's Promise

In the Shadow of the Hills

http://westerntrailblazer.com

Sneak Peek I

Sandy's Angel

Amanda Ashley

A woman doesn't find a near-naked man lying on the road every night, and especially not one who looks as good as this one. With a bump on his head and unable to remember much, he definitely needs her help.

Sandy already has her own problems – a failing ranch, hands leaving, and a note about to be called in by the bank. But she can't leave the poor man injured and unclothed.

Will taking him home prove to be a bad decision on her part? Or could he be her answer to a prayer?

Chapter 1

Hell Town, Wyoming, 1885

Sandy pulled back hard on the reins to keep the horses from trampling whatever, or whoever, was lying across the trail.

Ordinarily, she would have been watching the road more closely on a cloudy night like this, but she was still reeling from the sight of a comet or some other heavenly body that had gone streaking across the night sky in front of her only a few moments earlier.

And now this. She hoped it wasn't a deer, or worse, one of her heifers.

Looping the reins around the brake, she climbed down from the wagon and walked toward the still figure, which was clearly illuminated in the glow of a bright harvest moon.

Heidi jumped out of the back of the wagon and followed her, growling softly.

Sandy pressed a hand to her heart as she drew closer. It wasn't a calf, or a deer. It was a man. A man who was very nearly naked.

"Oh, please," she whispered, one hand at her throat. "Please don't be dead".

The words repeated themselves in her mind as she knelt beside him and gently rolled him onto his back.

Her first thought was that he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Not beautiful in the feminine sense of the word, for he was totally, blatantly male from the top of his head to the soles of his bare feet, but beautiful nonetheless. Her gaze skimmed over him – long black hair, thick sooty-colored lashes, an aristocratic nose, perfectly shaped, sensual lips, broad shoulders, a chest lightly furred with curly black hair, a washboard stomach, long muscular arms and legs.
Sheer, masculine perfection,
she thought again,
all wrapped up in a nice healthy tan.

She frowned at the odd-looking cloth that covered his loins. It was dark green and for some peculiar reason, it reminded her of a fig leaf.

Sandy sat back on her heels. There was no sign of blood. No outward evidence of anything broken or sprained. As far as she could tell, he was breathing normally. There was something almost hypnotic about the steady rise and fall of that broad beautiful chest.

Tentatively, she placed her hand on his shoulder. His skin felt warm and smooth.

"Hey." She shook his shoulder gently. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Tail wagging, Heidi licked the man's face.

"Here now, Heidi, stop that." Grabbing the dog's collar, she pulled the Collie away. "Sit, girl. Stay."

The man stirred slightly, and then his eyelids fluttered open.

"Are you all right?" Sandy asked, unable to draw her gaze from his face. In the soft glow of the moon's light, she could see that his eyes were a deep clear blue, like heavenly sapphires.

He blinked up at her. "Hello, Sandra Lynne Davis."

Sandy sat back on her heels. "Who the devil are you?" she asked, startled to hear her name on a stranger's lips "And how the heck do you know who I am?"

"My name is Rafael," he replied, his voice deep and soft and somehow soothing. "And the devil had nothing to do with it." He looked up at her and smiled. "I'm an angel."

Sandy grinned. Obviously, the man had landed on his head.
Hard.
What would an angel be doing in Hell Tree, Wyoming?

"An angel huh?" Sandy replied. "Where are your wings?"

"Angels don't have wings." He sat up in a single, smooth movement, his gaze intent upon her face. "Fairies have wings."

"Really? All the angels I've seen have had wings."

He looked at her, one brow arched. "Have you seen very many?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. Are you sure you're all right? Do you hurt anywhere?"

Slowly, he lifted a hand to the back of his head. "There is some discomfort here. Would that be pain?"

Reaching forward, Sandy probed the back of his head. She grunted softly when she found a lump the size of a goose egg. It proved what she had suspected all along. He had landed on his head.

"It's not bleeding," Sandy said reassuringly. "Is your vision blurred or anything?"

"Blurred?" He squinted at her. "No, I don't think so."

Sandy frowned, wondering what to do with him. She couldn't just leave him out here, not with that monstrous bump on his head, not when he was delusional. Certainly not when he was nearly naked.

On the other hand, taking him home didn't seem wise. She was single, after all. But she didn't live alone. Her housekeeper could double as her chaperone until Rafael was fit to travel.

"Come on," she said, her decision made. "I'll take you home."

Frowning, he glanced up at the sky. "Home? Ah,
your
home. Yes."

Sandy shook her head. For all that he was the most amazingly handsome man she had ever seen, he was obviously one flake short of a bale. Rising, she offered her hand to help him to his feet.

When his fingers closed around hers, a delicious heat unlike anything she had ever known flowed through her fingers, seeped into her palm, spread all the way up her arm and settled in her heart, filling her with a remarkable warmth. He rose lithely to his feet to tower over her. She had not realized how tall he was. Tall and lean and well-muscled. And nearly naked.

Never in all her twenty-three years had she been so intrigued by a man. It was difficult not to simply stand there and stare at him. It took all her will-power to draw her gaze from his face.

"Well, come on," she said, "let's get you home."
And dressed
, she added to herself, although it almost seemed a sin to cover that Adonis-like body. Calling, "Heidi, come," Sandy lowered the tailgate, and the Collie jumped into the back of the wagon.

Rafael followed the woman to the conveyance and vaulted up on the seat. The woman climbed up beside him, took up the reins, and clucked to the horse.

Sitting back in the seat, his arms crossed over his chest, Rafael watched the countryside go by. The Earth was indeed beautiful, just as Benjamin had promised. He lifted his hand, winced when his fingertips found the lump on the back of his head. New experiences, Benjamin had said, that was why Rafael needed to go to Earth. It would enable him to better understand human behavior if he spent some time living among them. He needed to experience sadness, loneliness, pain, hunger, cold, fear, anger, and depression, as well as happiness, joy, and pleasure.

When he tired of looking at miles and miles of gently rolling grassland, Rafael turned his attention to the young woman sitting beside him. She was quite lovely, with fine golden brown skin and a wealth of long dark red hair. Her eyes, beneath thick lashes, were as deep and green as the leaves of a celestial tree. She had a generous mouth, a stubborn chin, and a tip-tilted nose which could only be described as cute.

An unfamiliar warmth pooled in his groin as his gaze drifted over her body. Definitely female – a little plump, with curves in all the right places. Her breasts filled out the blue cotton shirt; faded jeans hugged her long shapely legs. She wore a pair of scuffed brown leather cowboy boots.

He took a deep breath and his nostrils filled with a myriad of scents: earth, trees, flowers, hay, and over all, a scent he didn't recognize but realized was peculiar to the woman herself. It was a pleasant aroma, reminiscent of a spring day. Could it be perfume?

"Are you from one of the ranches around here?" Sandy asked.

Rafael hesitated a moment before replying. "Not exactly."

"I didn't think so. You don't strike me as the cowboy type."

"Oh? What type do you think I am?"

"I'm not sure." She glanced at him, then shook her head. "I don't know. What kind of work do you do?"

"Work?"

"You know, a job?"

"Ah, my profession."

Sandy laughed. "When you first regained consciousness, you said you were an angel, but I can't imagine there's much profit in that."

He looked aghast at her words. "I said that?"

Sandy nodded. "I figure you must have hit your head pretty hard."

"Indeed," he muttered, hoping he would be forgiven for telling her such a thing.

"So, what line of work are you in?"

"You might say I'm a man of the cloth."

"A preacher, you mean?"

"Yes, something like that."

"How'd you wind up almost...ah…you know, in the middle of the road?"

Rafael glanced at his scanty attire and felt a rush of color flood his cheeks. Was he blushing?

"I'm not sure," he hedged, though he knew very well what had happened. In his haste to experience Earth life, he had neglected to properly clothe himself but he couldn't tell her that. Of course, lying was a sin, but in this case, a necessary one, since he was forbidden to tell her the truth.

"Well, I'll have Nina take a look at your head when we get home. Do you have any family nearby? A wife?"

"No." He shook his head. "No family."

"Oh." So, he wasn't married. The thought pleased her more than it should have. "Perhaps you can get in touch with your boss."