Set in Stone: A Contemporary Adventure Romance Novel (Legend Book 1)

  Set in Stone

  A Contemporary Adventure Romance Novel

  Legend Book 1

  Kylie Stewart

  Copyright © 2017 by Kylie Stewart

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, titles, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by TCK Publishing

  www.TCKPublishing.com

  Get discounts and special deals on books at

  www.tckpublishing.com/bookdeals

  Cover Design: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover By Design

  www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

  Proofreading: Jenny Sims

  www.editing4indies.com

  Sign up for Kylie Stewart’s newsletter to get special updates directly from the author at

  www.kyliestewartauthor.com/newsletter

  What makes a Legend?

  “Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is right wise king born of all England.”

  -Thomas Malory

  Legend is based off King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. The original story of King Arthur was written by Thomas Malory in 1485 titled: Le Morte D’Arthur. Historians and archeologists have tried to find King Arthur’s resting place or any trace of his seat in Camelot. There is no record the Isle of Avalon ever existed. Others speculate the isle was swallowed by the sea. Myth ties Tintagel Castle, which rests on a peninsula in Cornwall, England, to Arthur’s birthplace and the cave of Merlin.

  Was Arthur one man or several tales of brave warriors in the Dark Ages put together in a grand design?

  This series takes on a life of its own with the modern world we know mixed with technology, magic, religion, and of course – love.

  The quest for King Arthur may never be answered.

  Perhaps he has better served us as an ideal rather than a man.

  He is the once and future king.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my family who always pushed me to write and finish a novel.

  To God who gave me this gift to write and share stories with the masses.

  To my husband who is my best friend, greatest sounding board, and who encouraged me to write Legend when it was just an idea.

  To the numerous history lessons I had with my Nana, learning about England and Scottish lore.

  To my friends who believed in my crazy ideas.

  To my amazing beta readers for giving me positive and constructive feedback.

  To you, the reader, thank you. I no longer write for myself, but for all of you.

  A special thanks to Pepper Winters, RJ Thompson, Mika Jolie, Lavinia Urban, and Melody Dawn for encouraging me and always being there to answer my questions. You ladies are amazing.

  Contents

  What makes a Legend?

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kylie C. Stewart

  And did those feet in ancient time,

  Walk upon England’s mountains green:

  And was the holy Lamb of God,

  On England’s pleasant pastures seen?

  And did the Countenance Divine,

  Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

  And was Jerusalem builded here,

  Among these dark Satanic Mills?

  Bring me my bow of burning gold:

  Bring me my arrows of desire:

  Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!

  Bring me my chariot of fire!

  I will not cease from Mental Fight:

  Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand:

  Till we have built Jerusalem;

  In England’s green and pleasant hills.

  -William Blake

  Prologue

  Avalon

  1854

  Caliburn Estate, Kent

  Seat of the Duke of Avalon

  Her voice brought me out from the surrounding chaos threatening to drown me. I broke my stare away from the storm outside and allowed myself to look at her one last time.

  “Arthur, you must promise me.” She reached for my hands. “Promise me that one day you will find a way to end this, to free yourself.”

  Her tears broke my heart.

  I knelt in front of her. “I swear, Christine.” I brushed the raven hair away from her face. “I promise you.”

  She hiccupped. “God, forgive me for making you do this. But you must. I am weak, and I cannot withstand all that you need me to do.”

  I blinked back the tears that were desperately trying to break through. “I understand.”

  Christine looked to M, my trusted butler and head of house. He offered her a small smile before glancing out the window again.

  “I love you.” She bit her lip. “I love you so much that I must leave you.” She nodded to M, while he silently watched rain pelt the window. “You, too, M, promise me.”

  “Of course, my lady.” The kindly man nodded. I could tell he was as devastated by this course of events as I was. He blinked back tears of his own.

  “Christine, I love you.” I kissed her hands and then drew her in. Our lips danced one final time.

  Why does it end like this?

  Why does it always have to end?

  As we broke apart, Christine smiled bravely at me. “One day, you shall have your greatest desire, and we will be victorious.” Her hand caressed my cheek. “But that woman is not me.”

  “How can I live without you, my love?” I finally broke. Tears cascaded down my face. Fear of being alone gripped me once again like an iron vise.

  “Hush, my love.” Christine held me close as I collapsed in her lap. “You will know her; she will be like no other. Your heart will tell you, and only then can the curse be lifted.”

  “And you?” I looked up into eyes green as a spring meadow. “What will become of you?”

  Christine smiled at me through her sorrow. “I shall live as you always wanted me to live. I will be free of harm, free of our enemy.” Her voice lowered as she kissed me again. “Free to come back to you.”

  “It is time, sir,” M said cautiously from behind us. His voice was tight, wavering.

  With a nod, I held her hands as I sat in front of her. M positioned himself behind her chair, placing his hands gently on her head. Christine took a few deep breaths and let out a shaky sigh.


  “Let us do this.” Her gaze flickered to mine. “I will always find you, Arthur. My king and love.”

  I choked back a sob as she continued to stare at me while M chanted, erasing one memory from her at a time. It was what he ordered. If Christine was to live, she had to live without me. Thomas could rot in hell for all I cared, and I would send him there myself.

  But for now, I spent my last moments with the one woman I thought could end my suffering. The light from her eyes faded, her breathing growing more labored.

  “I swear to you, I shall be with you again, and I will be victorious.” I kissed her hand as a single tear fell from her eye. “I love you.”

  Christine fell limp in the chair, her eyes falling closed. I looked at M.

  “Is she . . . ?”

  M nodded with sadness in his eyes. “She remembers you no longer, sir. I am sorry.”

  I kissed her cheek one last time before backing away. A few servants came in to collect the woman and took her outside into the night to a carriage. The man inside would no doubt love her as I had, but he was not me.

  As she was carted out of my life, the rage inside boiled until I couldn’t contain it. I broke vases, threw chairs, and flipped tables, all while screaming. M was the one who stopped me.

  “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! You must control yourself!”

  I shook him off.

  “No!” I was mad with grief. “When will God finally relent? When will I end this cursed life?” I tore at my shirt. “I have nothing left!” I raked my hands through my hair. “I always lose her. I cannot lose her again . . . ”

  “My lord . . . ”

  “I am not your lord!” I was sure the servants could hear my screams.

  Let them.

  “I am not your king!” I sank down the length of the wall and hugged my knees to my chest. “All that I am is Avalon—the man who once was king. The man God saw fit to strip of salvation. The Dragon . . . the fallen angel trapped in Hell.”

  “Soon, sir. Soon, all will be well again.” M wrapped his arm around me. “My boy, one day you will be set free.”

  “How much longer, M? How much longer?” I had chased her through the centuries, and she had jilted me every time. But by the grace of God, I wouldn’t give her up so easily. Her hourglass would tip again. My time to save us both was running out.

  One Hundred and Sixty-two years later . . .

  Love is Patient

  One

  Alexandria

  The sound of pounding hooves against the muddy English soil echoed through the forest trail. Wild birds fled from branches as two graceful beasts rounded a sloping, uphill curve. I sensed Elaine on my left side, asking her gelding for more. I clucked my tongue and hunkered lower along my mount’s neck. I gave him rein.

  “Alexandria!” Elaine’s laughter had me turn in my stirrups to look over my shoulder.

  The old thoroughbred understood as centuries of his breeding surged us both to the top. The soft cursing under my friend’s breath caused me to giggle, as I was once again the victor.

  “How was that to your liking?” I laughed, pulling the black horse beneath me to a stop. He seemed quite pleased with himself as he pranced in place, blowing through his wide nostrils. I patted his neck, dropping my hand to the buckle of the thin leather reins, giving him room to breathe as we walked side by side.

  Elaine did the same, and her heavier boned horse gratefully accepted the break. “Oh, just fine, but if I had known I was going to be eating dirt today, I would have worn a different jacket.” Her Scottish accent was always thicker after any excitement—good or bad.

  I noticed the few specks of mud on her pale blue jacket. I chuckled and shook my head. A raven cawed in the distance, and I looked around.

  “Whoa.” I drew back slightly and looked at Elaine.

  Elaine looked just as confused as I was. We had taken a more overgrown trail that we assumed was on the stable’s grounds. Yet neither of us had ever been here before. The trees were thicker, a light mist rolled over the ground, and the birds were quiet.

  “Do you think we made a wrong trail choice?” Her green eyes darted around, a bit unsure. I tried to swallow the unease I picked up from the land we now trod upon. I shook my head.

  “Even if we did, it will be easy to find our way back.” I pulled the left rein to put light pressure on the snaffle, telling Blackie to turn around. The good thing about spring in England was the rain. April had plenty of it to give to the green pastures. The mess we had created during our gallop would be easy to trace back to the main trail.

  As we guided our horses back down the low-slung hill, we heard dogs barking in the distance. Elaine’s gelding snorted and paused, not willing to do anything but listen. His gray ears flicked back and forth in response to the braying hounds.

  “Do you think we trespassed?” My friend glanced at me.

  I pressed my lips together and narrowed my eyes in the direction of the hounds. They were getting closer. I didn’t like the idea that we had wandered into a private park, or worse, an estate owned by someone of high seating.

  A red horse crested the hill with a rider dressed in all black. The white blaze flashed like lightning, as the rider pulled them to a halt. The horse didn’t stand quietly. Instead, they did small hops and danced sideways as the rider looked down at the two of us. He raised a gloved hand in greeting.

  We did the same. As he came closer, I sucked in a breath. He was wearing black breeches and a brand of tall black boots that would cost me a year’s worth of commission sales. Silver-butted spurs glinted in the dim, cloud-covered sky. He didn’t wear a jacket like we did; rather, he wore a black polo fitted to his muscular form. I had to admit he looked gorgeous astride his red mare. My critical eyes found his face. My cheeks burned when I caught him staring at me, an amused look playing on his handsome face.

  Way to be obvious!

  I cleared my throat, knowing by the expression on Elaine’s awestruck face that she wouldn’t be good conversation. She was practically drooling.

  “We are so sorry if we are trespassing,” I spoke. “We took a trail off Wildwood Stable’s normal route, and we ended up here.”

  I kept my voice steady, ignoring the way his storm-gray eyes cut me in half. The corners of those eyes crinkled, as they narrowed slightly when I spoke. Lips twitched. His bottom lip was fuller than his top. An expressive eyebrow had arched at my apology before he nodded, agreeing with my statement.

  “That you are, but no matter.” He took one hand from the reins and placed it on his hip. The muscles in his forearm flexed and his polo sleeve bit at the biceps, threatening the seams. “Do you know your way back?”

  “Yes, sir. Again, we meant no harm.” Two hounds circled their master and his steed. His voice had sent a chill through me. It was low but melodic. The rare combination of sounds made me curious. The only imperfection I could make out on one of his well-sculpted cheekbones was a faded scar. For a moment, I was inspired. He was physical perfection. He’d be the perfect subject to bring to life in my hands. I had lacked inspiration, and as an artist, that was detrimental.

  “Please, no harm was done. I understand the thrill of a ride.” He gave a dangerous half-smile in my direction, stroking his mare’s neck firmly.

  I couldn’t look away. His eyes screamed something. Something I couldn’t make out.

  “Well, we’ll be going!” Elaine’s voice came out in a higher pitch than usual. “Where are we, anyway?”

  I broke my stare, as did the man. A chuckle could be heard rumbling from his chest. I wanted him to look at me again. I was taking mental notes of his perfection for when I got home and was in front of a canvas.

  “You have wandered onto a private estate.” He shortened both hands on the reins. “Caliburn Estate.”

  Elaine gave a little gasp, and now, it was time for my brows to rise.

  “Caliburn?” I repeated.

  His eyes grew dark as my voice wrapped around the word.

&nb
sp; “Yes. Now, I’d advise you head home. The clouds are threatening to break open again. I wouldn’t want two beautiful women getting their riding gear soaked.” He spoke to both of us, but his dark gaze was still on me.

  “Yes, thank you, sir.” I nodded and refocused on the trail behind us.

  “Your Grace,” Elaine whispered so softly I couldn’t hear it well enough to react.

  “So long, for now.” With a nod of his helmeted head, he kicked his mare into a canter.

  Graceful as a deer, she only took half a leap to fall into the steady three-beat gate. The hounds followed, braying, and just like that, the man in black was gone.

  Elaine let out a breath, and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips. “I never thought I’d get the chance to see him up close.”

  “Who?” I was still focused on trying to remember every detail of the stranger’s face so I could recreate it. We were back on the trail now, but Elaine pulled her horse ahead of mine to cut me off.

  “You don’t know who that just was?” Her eyes were wide as she gulped at me.

  “I’ve never seen him before, and I’ve only heard of Caliburn Estate whispered in high-society gallery shows.” I shrugged. “What does it mean?”

  “You are a git sometimes.” Elaine shook her head, resting her hands on the pommel of the English saddle. “That was the man who holds the seat of Caliburn Estate, himself!”

  When I made no motion, Elaine’s eyes narrowed. “That was the Duke of Avalon! The Black Duke, the Dragon! He’s the man with more money than Her Majesty and more clout than Cameron.”

  Her words finally registered. I had heard of this Duke of Avalon. I wrinkled my nose. All the stories I had heard had made him sound old, miserly, and cruel. I had thought for sure he was some hunchback who was closing in on a hundred years old. He was nothing like that at all. The man I had seen was youthful, couldn’t be more than thirty-three, and handsome. He had been kind enough to let us pass without calling the authorities on us.