Historical Romance: Seduced by an Angel by @AdriennedeWolfe #excerpt
Cover links to Amazon.com
Seduced by an Angel
(Velvet Lies, Book 3)
Written by Adriennede Wolfe
Follow @AdriennedeWolfe
Jesse Quaid can't let Sera's sweet kisses distract him from rendezvousing with Cass, a childhood friend, to clear his name of a crime he didn't commit.
But then a case of mistaken identity turns Cass into Jesse's deadliest rival for Sera's heart.
Now, Sera must find a way to end the feud before the man she loves is lost forever.
Excerpt from
Seduced by an Angel
Chapter
1
Stanford
Lincoln County,
KY
April,
1882
"A preacher's wife has
no business riding around on the back of a horse, especially one as
high-strung as a thoroughbred," grumbled the mountain-sized man in the elegantly
tailored, black broadcloth.
"I'll have you know,
Michael Jones," retorted his spirited young companion, a petite southern belle
with a heart-shaped face, "I shall not be rushed into marrying some
fuddy-duddy preacher just because you would rather chase your new wife around
the bedroom rather that act as a respectable guardian to
me."
Michael's clean-shaven
face turned crimson. "Seraphina, that is not only ludicrous, that's
offens—"
"And secondly,"
Sera interrupted breezily, tossing her blue-black ringlets, "you're not footing
the bill for my filly. My brother who loves me is."
Straining his ears to
eavesdrop on this family dispute, Jesse Quaid stroked the nose of the frisky
filly in question and murmured endearments to silence her whickering. The rangy,
trail-weathered Texican considered himself a good judge of horseflesh, and he
knew that Michael Jones had accurately assessed the yearling's temperament after
watching her perform in the pre-auction parade around the racetrack at
Sportsman's Hill.
On the other hand, Jesse
had always possessed a knack for handling horses. He'd sneaked into Tempest's
stall to acquaint himself with the coal-black mischief-maker so he could pose as
the filly's trainer. Jesse was hoping this ploy would finally let him meet
Seraphina Jones.
For nearly a month,
Great Spirit had been sending him dreams of a dark-haired White Woman riding
astride a flying raptor. Jesse's Cherokee grandmother had taught him to look for
signs in his waking world when the Eagle Messenger of Great Spirit appeared in
his sleeping world. Still, Jesse had never imagined that Sera was
real.
Then, earlier that
morning, Jesse had spied her from across the street as she and her chaperones
had exited the Gables Hotel. Stunned to observe his dream in the flesh, Jesse
had broken one of his cardinal rules of self-preservation: he'd risked being
recognized in a crowd. Discreetly trailing Sera, he'd entered a restaurant to
watch her eat breakfast with her sister-in-law. He'd strolled across the street
as she'd window-shopped with her brother along Stanford's busy commercial
district. He'd tracked her family's private carriage to the yearling auction at
Sportsman's Hill.
All of this
reconnoitering had taught Jesse a great deal about the Jones family, and more
importantly, about the vivacious Sera. He knew that she considered herself a
proponent of the Woman's Reform Movement, and that she was hoping to vote in a
presidential election someday. He knew that she had a soft spot for a
16-year-old orphan, named Collie, who'd been failing to report for his chores on
the Jones's property. He knew that she was excited to become an aunt to the baby
that her sister-in-law, Eden, was due to birth in six months.
Jesse had observed that
Sera freckled in the sun; that she was fond of flavored ices; that she favored
gardenia perfume; and that she never removed her white matinee gloves, even if
she was buttering cornbread at a restaurant.
This observation had
been Jesse's first clue, explaining why Great Spirit had led him to
Sera.
Jesse's second clue had
been Sera's collapse in the milliner's stairwell. The incident had occurred
shortly after lunch, in plain view of Stanford's commercial district—or rather,
it would have, if her brother, Rafe, hadn't sheltered her so expertly with his
body. Sera had emerged from the hat shop without her right glove. By the time
Rafe had noticed that the glove was missing from her hand, Sera's fingers had
already closed over the wrought iron banister.
In a flash, the color
had drained from her face. Her knees had buckled. Even from Jesse's hiding
place, some ten yards away, he could see Sera's bright, curious eyes grow dull
and sky-blue vacant.
"Sera!" Rafe cried,
dropping her hatbox and squatting in the stairwell beside her. "What is it?
What's wrong?"
