LOVE’S LEGACY

The Series

By

T. L. DAVISON

Author’s Note

The Love’s Legacy novels were originally written as a single volume, beginning with the three hundred pages I penned by hand, commencing on my 21^st birthday. I had written brief articles which were published in my high school newspaper, but never considered writing a full novel as I had aspirations of being an artist, which I still am...when time permits. For those of you who may be curious about my artistic endeavours, you may visit my website at www.clublighthousestudio.co.uk .

Over the years and as several revisions along with enough rejection slips to paper my walls as the road to publication wasn’t easy---and due to other commitments in my life that prevented me from writing full time----Love’s Legacy finally evolved into a lengthy epic, that my editor at Renaissance E-Books liked. However, the length of it was rather prohibitive for publication as a single e-book volume, thus a series of four novels was spawned. Initially I was dismayed and unsure of this move, but eventually saw the wisdom in it. At the time I was at the point where I just wanted to get the book published. In the interim, I had found time to also write ‘Impostor’ which is a stand alone sequel to Love’s Legacy, and a couple others of an erotic nature under the pseudonym of Laura Hammond which were well received and can be purchased at Renaissance E-Books.

Meanwhile, I dreamed of having the Love’s Legacy series released as a single volume, which became a possibility when I launched my own e-book publishing firm; Club Lighthouse Publishing. Club Lighthouse Publishing came into being from my desire to help ease the difficulties that many a promising author out there may encounter on the road to being published. Also, I do wholehearted believe that e-publishing is the future of the publishing industry as humanity becomes more aware of the effect the decimation of our forests has on global warming.

So as the author and CEO of Club Lighthouse I am pleased to present Love’s Legacy –The Series….

T.L. Davison

Rating: Paranormal activity, sensual, violence, adult language.

LOVE'S LEGACY

Excerpt

"FASTER, FASTER OL' GIRL." He spurred the horse on, as the pursuing thundering hooves portended doom. They were gaining on him. He tightened one arm more securely around the waist of woman sitting in front of him, on the galloping horse.

Aaaarrrrggghhh." Suddenly, an agonizing scream burst forth from him as the projectile pierced his back, ripping through his insides with such a vicious force that it also skewered the woman. Together they fell with a dull thud onto the dew moistened grass.....

Lance Stevens jackknifed on the bed, cold sweating, trembling and gasping for air, literally feeling his insides being torn apart. He hadn't experienced this recurring nightmare in a while and wondered why it started to plague him again. Glancing out the opened window, he noticed that dawn was breaking. He filled his lungs with the fresh Swiss-mountain air that blew in, as he continued to breathe deeply to slow the erratic thumping of his heart. Reaching over to the night table, he switched on the bedside lamp and saw it. The reason for the nightmare: The book he had been reading, before he became enraged and flung it across the room before falling into tortured sleep earlier: The book in which the whole tragic past was written, and now making Claire's sister millions. The night nurse must have picked it up and put it back when she came in to check on him.

"Will I ever be free of the damned past?" He seethed bitterly. The past that had brought him to where he was now. No matter what euphemisms they may use to describe this place, he was still in a bloody nuthouse....only a nuthouse for the neurotic rich........

* * *

MEANWHILE, THOUSANDS OF miles across the Atlantic in her sumptuous lakefront home in Ontario, Canada, Claire stared with hatred and disgust at Dr. James Brandon, her husband. Her head hurt terribly from where he had grabbed her by her hair earlier.

"That was Pete, my brother-in-law. He only came to see how Jeff and I were doing,” she said bitterly through her tears.

A brief vision of a dark haired man with insanely jealous and demonic glittering dark eyes, and mutton chop sideburns popular in the eighteenth century, momentarily swam before her, superimposing itself on her husband's face. Claire shut her eyes and shook her head, as she tried to fight the light-headed sensation of disassociation from the present that threatened to envelope her......

* * *

"OH MY GOD, NO!" JAMES suddenly jerked backwards as though he had been hit. His face drained of all colour. Terror or something akin to it, registered in his eyes as he fled from the room.

The memory flashed by him again. As he had looked into his wife's hate filled eyes, did he actually see her features shift and change into someone else's face, also with bruises that he had put there? It was for but a few seconds that he'd had the vivid impression of violet eyes, rippling long black hair and full ruby red lips in a face that was similar in structure to Claire's. Again, those memories of another place and time he felt he knew as though he had lived there, assailed him.......

* * *

KENN MICHAEL HARRISON STIRRED fitfully in his sleep as the violet-eyed, raven-haired woman appeared out of the mists again.

"Richard mon ami, please help me. Find Ferdie, tell him I need him," she implored as always.

He reached out to grab her hand, but she disappeared into a wisp of mist. Then the dream sequence changed, and he saw himself standing over the woman joined to her lover by a spear, on the grounds of Cardon Hall. The man, not yet dead, implored Kenn Michael to end his suffering. Then he felt a furry head brush against his face.

Kenn Michael opened his eyes and sat up on the bed, awake as Fred his cat, edged closer and settled into his lap, purring.

"Thanks Freddy ol' boy," he murmured to the cat, grateful to it for waking him up.

Glancing at the glowing red digits on the clock radio by his bedside through blurred vision, he realized that he was actually crying, as the deep sadness that had engulfed him while in his dream state, lingered. He had been asleep for only two hours and the hum of traffic and sounds of the city outside his opened window, signalled that Toronto was still alive and buzzing and would be that way for a few hours yet. Half-hour later, unable to fall back to sleep as the images of the past he had seen only in his recurring dreams, continued to whirl around in his brains, Kenn Michael got out of bed and went to the kitchen to get a drink. He filled a glass with cold milk and took it to the living room, set it down and stepped over to the shelving unit. From one of its drawers, he took out half of an old diary, written by a man named Richard Carlyle, who had been one of his ancestors. Though he had read it many times before, as though seeking new understanding for his recurring dreams, as well as something he might have missed, Kenn Michael sat down and started to read......