LEGEND
Critical Acclaim for the Marvelous Romances of . . .
Jude Deveraux
LEGEND
“First-rate reading . . . Only Jude Deveraux could mix romance with tongue-in-cheek humor and have it all come out so perfectly right.”
—Rendezvous
“This dynamic author widen[s] the boundaries of the genre. . . .”
—Painted Rock Reviews
“Another refreshingly optimistic love story . . . Any novel by Deveraux is just plain fun to read, and she keeps readers on the edge of their seats.”
—The Advocate (Baton Rouge, LA)
THE HEIRESS
“Deveraux’s novels are always eagerly awaited by her fans, and The Heiress lives up to her usual standards.”
—The Pilot (Southern Pines, NC)
REMEMBRANCE
“Brilliant . . . unforgettable . . . as romantic as A Knight in Shining Armor . . . Ms. Deveraux brings this unusual romance to life, demonstrating that she is a superb craftsman and a mesmerizing storyteller. . . .”
—Kathe Robin, Romantic Times
“One of the world’s top romance novelists has outdone herself. . . . This is a book that Deveraux fans who loved A Knight in Shining Armor have anxiously awaited, and it certainly does not disappoint.”
—Cheryl Rosamond, The Lake Worth Herald (FL)
A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
“A glorious love story that spans centuries, worlds and souls. It is the epitome of every woman’s fantasy, a knight in shining armor who comes to the modern-day rescue of a distressed damsel. . . . The very special hero and heroine are enchanting and extraordinary.”
—Chicago Daily Herald
“The ultimate romance reader’s fantasy . . . A Knight in Shining Armor will capture your heart, make you laugh, cry, and wish this could come true.”
—Romantic Times
SWEET LIAR
“A true thumbs-up.”
—Los Angeles Daily News
“A compelling mystery, a stunning love story . . . funny, thrilling, warm and loving . . . Sweet Liar is a contemporary novel that only Jude Deveraux could write and one her fans will devour.”
—Romantic Times
“Another sexy winner . . .”
—Copley News Service
ETERNITY
“Get ready to be completely enchanted. . . . Warm and loving, funny and tender . . . an updated fairytale that will lift your heart.”
—Romantic Times
“Engaging characters, hilarious dialogue, colorful historical backdrop . . . Deveraux’s tales are tender, funny, warm, and endearing. . . .”
—The Advocate (Baton Rouge, LA)
MOUNTAIN LAUREL
“Tenderness, humor, passion, poignancy and memorable romance . . . Mountain Laurel is a delight.”
—Romantic Times
“Deveraux fans . . . will welcome yet another pair of feisty, independent souls whose conversation crackles with electricity.”
—Houston Chronicle
THE TAMING
“Vintage Deveraux—a fast-moving, psychologically acute rendition of the battle of the sexes set in a richly textured historical landscape . . . Deveraux’s mastery of every trick of narrative art creates depth and resonance. . . .”
—Publishers Weekly
“Delightful . . . The Taming is a winning combination . . . a very funny, engaging, fast-paced read that’s sure to please.”
—Rave Reviews
THE AWAKENING
“A tender, hilarious, intense love story . . . Everything Jude Deveraux readers expect from her passionate pen. . . . This is a keeper.”
—Romantic Times
WISHES
“In Wishes, one of Jude Deveraux’s most enchanting stories, she blends a pinch of magic, a dash of Cinderella fantasy, and spoonfuls of fun into a stunning romance.”
—Rave Reviews
“Jude Deveraux always spins a gripping tale. . . . Plenty of passion—and the plot never slackens.”
—Booklist
Books by Jude Deveraux
The Velvet Promise
Highland Velvet
Velvet Song
Velvet Angel
Sweetbriar
Counterfeit Lady
Lost Lady
River Lady
Twin of Fire
Twin of Ice
The Temptress
The Raider
The Princess
The Awakening
The Maiden
The Taming
The Conquest
A Knight in Shining Armor
Wishes
Mountain Laurel
The Duchess
Eternity
Sweet Liar
The Invitation
Remembrance
The Heiress
Legend
Published by POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS
New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
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Copyright © 1996 by Deveraux, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN: 0-671-03694-7
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
LEGEND
Chapter 1
“I LOOK LIKE A CHOCOLATE MERINGUE PIE,” KADY SAID AS SHE grimaced at her reflection in the tall three-sided mirror. With her dark hair and ivory skin above the absolute white of the frothy wedding dress, she did indeed remind herself of chocolate and whipped egg whites. Cocking her head to one side, she reconsidered. “Or maybe a chicken dumpling. I can’t decide which.”
From behind her, Debbie, who had been at cooking school with Kady, laughed softly, but Jane did not.
“I don’t want to hear another word like that,” Jane said sternly. “You hear me, Kady Long? Not one more word! You are absolutely gorgeous and you full well know it.”
“Gregory certainly knows it,” Debbie said, her eyes wide as she surveyed Kady in the mirror. As one of Kady’s two bridesmaids, she’d flown to Virginia from northern California the night before and had only met Kady’s fiancé this morning. She was still reeling from the experience. Gregory Norman was one terrific-looking man: his face and body all hard angles and planes, with dark hair and eyes that looked at a woman as though to say he’d very much like to make love to her. When he’d raised Debbie’s fingertips to his beautiful lips and kissed them, Debbie’s upper li
p had broken into a sweat.
“How can I walk down the aisle looking like this?” Kady asked, holding out what had to be fifty yards of heavy satin. “And look at these sleeves: they’re bigger than I am. And the skirt!” With horror in her eyes, she looked down at the acres of white satin puddling about her, a pearl encrusted border sparkling on the seven or so inches of hem that bent into an overflow on the floor.
“Any of these dresses can be altered,” said the tall, thin saleswoman, who with her stiff stance let Kady know that she didn’t appreciate having her bridal salon’s wares denigrated.
Kady hadn’t meant to give offense. “It’s not the dresses; it’s me. Why can’t the human body be like bread dough so we could shape it however we want? Add a little here, take a little off there.”
“Kady,” Jane warned. They had known each other all their lives, and she could not bear to hear Kady say anything derogatory about herself; she loved her too much to allow that.
But Debbie giggled. “Or as stretchy as pizza dough,” she said, looking at Kady in the mirror. “Then we could elongate what was too short, and leave lumps where we wanted them.”
When Kady laughed, Debbie was quite pleased with herself. They had gone to culinary school in New York together, but Debbie had always been in awe of Kady. While other students were trying to learn techniques and how to blend flavors, Kady just seemed to know. She could look at a recipe and tell how it was going to taste; she could eat a meal she hadn’t cooked, then later re-create it exactly. While other students were juggling recipe cards and trying to remember the difference between scones and biscuits, Kady threw things into a bowl, dumped them onto a sheet pan, put them into an oven, and they came out divine. Needless to say, at school Kady was the darling of all the teachers and the envy of every student. Debbie had been flattered beyond all reasoning when Kady had asked her if she’d like to go to a movie and thus started their friendship.
Now, five years later, both she and Kady were thirty years old. Debbie had married, had a couple of children, and her culinary talents were mostly directed toward peanut-butter sandwiches and barbecued steaks on weekends. But that’s not the way Kady’s life had gone. After school Kady had shocked—and horrified—all the other students and her teachers by accepting a job at a run-down steak house called Onions located in Alexandria, Virginia. Her teachers had tried to persuade her to accept one of the many job offers she received from fabulous restaurants in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and even Paris. But she’d turned them down flat. And everyone had said what a shame it was for someone with Kady’s talent to waste herself in that nothing little steak house.
But Kady had had the last laugh because she’d turned Onions into a three-star restaurant. People came from all over the world to eat at her tables. If a diplomat, jet-setter, or even an in-the-know tourist visited the eastern seaboard, he made sure he went to Kady’s Place, as it was affectionately known.
And what made the food world especially envious was that Kady had done it her way. She’d been determined to bring people to her food, not to the restaurant itself. Today, Onions was still in need of refurbishing; it was tiny, seating only twenty-five people at once, and it accepted no reservations. Nor did it have a menu. People came and stood in line and waited until a table was empty, then they ate whatever Kady had decided to cook that night.
Debbie would never forget the video on the six o’clock news that seemed to amuse Peter Jennings so much. In it was President Clinton waiting in line outside Onions, talking to the king of some African country, both of them surrounded by hungry tourists and locals, while Secret Service men looked on in wild-eyed fear, anticipating danger.
Now, as Debbie looked at Kady in her wedding dress, she saw only her talented, pretty friend. Besides being an extraordinary cook, Kady had one of the most beautiful faces she’d ever seen. As far as Debbie knew, Kady had no idea how to apply mascara, but then why should she when she had lashes that thick and that black? And long, thick hair so dark and shiny you could almost apply your lipstick in its reflection. “Good diet,” Kady always said, tongue in cheek, whenever anyone said she was pretty.
Although her face was exceptionally pretty, Kady had what the fashion magazines described as a “figure problem.”
Kady was about five feet two inches tall, had a size twelve top and bottom and a size four waist. In school she’d always worn her chef’s coat, a long, double-breasted jacket that went almost to her knees, completely concealing her waist, so she looked like a pretty face set atop a burrito. It wasn’t until a school Halloween party, when Kady had shown up dressed as a streetwalker, that anyone had seen her little waist—and had seen her exaggerated hourglass figure. After that night several of the male students had made passes at Kady, but later, after she’d corrected their soufflés and crepes, they left her alone. “Gets them every time,” Kady had whispered to Debbie, adding that she was waiting for a man she loved as much as she loved cooking.
And now she’d found him. Gregory Norman was the drop-dead gorgeous son of the widow who owned Onions, the woman who had so very wisely hired Kady. It was rumored that when Kady refused to allow the President of the United States into her restaurant ahead of a family of tourists from Iowa, Mrs. Norman had had to be revived with smelling salts. But later, after Mrs. Norman received a handwritten note from the President thanking Mrs. Norman and Kady for such a wonderful meal, Mrs. Norman had in turn thanked Kady by paying the extravagant bill for the white truffles Kady had ordered without one complaint, nor even a sarcastic remark. It was said that keeping her mouth shut had probably taken five years off Mrs. Norman’s life.
“You can’t wear that dress, that’s for sure,” Jane said in a no-nonsense way. “Actually, you can’t be seen in any of these.” As she spoke she glared at the saleswoman, daring her to comment. “Come on, get out of that thing, and let’s go to lunch.”
“I’ve heard of a new place about twenty miles—” Debbie began, but Jane halted her.
“Don’t even try. Our Kady will eat nowhere except at an American deli. No one else can cook food good enough for her, isn’t that right, Miss Picky?”
Kady laughed as she struggled out of the voluminous dress. “Delis have good, simple food. It is what it is.”
“Ha! You just don’t like anyone else’s cooking, that’s what. Come on, let’s go.”
Debbie was bewildered at the way Jane bossed Kady around, for to her, Kady was a bit of a celebrity, at least she was in the food world, since she was always being mentioned in those heavenly food magazines. “Food pornography,” as Kady called them. “Sinfully rich and sinfully delicious to our weight-conscious society.”
Twenty minutes later the three women were seated at tiny tables in a frantically busy deli, eating turkey breast sandwiches.
“So!” Jane said. “I feel a little guilty, having arrived days earlier, so why don’t you tell Debbie all about your fiancé? In fact, I forgot all about the love part of all this.”
At that Kady rolled her eyes. Jane was an accountant, and for the last two days the finances of the restaurant and Kady’s bank account had been Jane’s number one concern.
“Yes, do tell me,” Debbie encouraged. “Tell me all about Gregory. Kady, he really is the most beautiful of men. Is he a model?”
“More important,” Jane said with a secretive look, “how does he look with his face veiled?”
“What?” Debbie asked, leaning forward, looking puzzled.
“Since she was a child, Kady has . . .” Halting, Jane looked at her friend. “Stop sitting there looking like the cat that ate the canary and tell us all. Was it love at first sight?”
“More like ‘love at first bite,’” Kady said, smiling, her eyes dreamy as they always were when she thought of the man she loved. “As you know, Gregory is Mrs. Norman’s only child, but he lives in Los Angeles, where he’s a high-powered real estate agent. He buys and sells those fivemillion-dollar houses for the movie stars, so he’s pretty busy. He’s only
been back to Virginia once in the five years I’ve been here.” After she said this, she glanced at Jane to make sure she’d heard. Financial solvency was what Jane considered a man’s most important feature. “The one time he was here was the week I was in Ohio visiting my parents, so I missed meeting him.”
Kady smiled in memory. “But six months ago, early one Sunday morning, I was at the restaurant with my knives and—”
At this Jane gave a snort of laughter, and Debbie tittered. Kady never, never allowed anyone to touch her precious knives. She kept them sharp enough to split an eyelash, lengthwise, and heaven help anyone who picked up one of her knives and used it to do something like, say, scrape a cutting board.
“Okay,” Kady said, smiling, then turned to Debbie. “My dear friend here has for years been trying to make me believe that there is life outside a kitchen. But I have told her that, due to something called hunger, life comes to the kitchen.” She looked back at Jane. “And it did. It came in the form of one Gregory Norman.”
“Some great form,” Debbie said under her breath, making Kady smile.
“Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was in the kitchen at the restaurant, and in walked Gregory. Right away I knew who he was, since Mrs. Norman has shown me at least three point one million photos of him and has told me everything about him from the time he was born. But I don’t think he knew who I was.”
“Thought you were the scullery maid, did he?” Jane asked. “And what did you have on? Torn jeans and one of those shapeless coats of yours?”
“Of course. But Gregory didn’t notice. He’d arrived from LA late the night before and he’d been out jogging, so he was sweaty and very hungry. He asked if I knew if there was any cereal or something he could eat for breakfast. So I told him to sit down and I’d make him something.”
After that, Kady took a big bite of her sandwich and looked as though she were planning to say no more.