Chapter 2

"I waited too long," Ian said to no one in particular. Pacing around the room Ian was very aware that his inaction had caused Michael undo pain.

The sun had set hours ago, and the fatigue showed as Ian pulled up the video one more time before turning in.

It showed the pain and suffering of a man bereft of hope.

How many of us could hope to begin to understand the pain of this kind of loss?

How many of us could come through with our sanity and humanity intact?

Ian closed down his computer and walked slowly from the room.

The castle, built in the 8th century, was part of the legacy.

If you were called this is where you lived, the castle and the surrounding grounds had been the home of the chosen for the last eleven centuries.

Each step that Ian took was a step another had taken before him; each step was an echo of one that would come. The past, present and future lived in the halls of Nogardshire Castle. If a place could have a soul then surely this was that place.

Closing the heavy oak door Ian slumped against the frame. Time was finally beginning to catch up with him. Ian looked in the mirror across the room and could hardly recognize himself.

Always athletic and energetic, Ian Norris Smyth, the Lord of Nogardshire had lived an interesting life.

Born to Colin and Margaret Smyth, Ian's childhood was as good as could be expected during that time in England.

Colin was a hard working blacksmith, Margaret worked as a midwife; together the three of them lived in a 2 bedroom flat on Woodlea Rd just south of Clissold Park.

Ian grew up knowing what it was to be loved. Knowing that hard work and sacrifice were required to keep a steady path and make ones way in the world. Those lessons were as true then as they were today.

The cognac had a satisfying warmth going down as Ian absently admired the unique Baccarat crystal decanter of the 'Black Pearl' Louis XIII. Limited to only 786 carafes it was a unique gift that Ian appreciated more that he could ever tell Millicent.

He wished Millie were here now.

Times like these were always easier when she was at his side. Someone to talk with, someone to hold, someone who knew him and the burdens he bore.

She would be back from Istanbul tomorrow and he would fill her in, until then it was just he and Louis.

As rain lashed at the windows, Ian settled into the chair by the fire, hoping its warmth would drive away the cold clammy hand that had grabbed his heart as he watched Michael screaming over the coffin of his family.

"My Lord" Cedric said for the third time as he shook his masters shoulder.

The sun had been up for quite some time and Ms. Millicent would be home in less than an hour, 'his lordship would want to be presentable when she arrived, ' Cedric thought.

Ian stirred, his dreams had been convoluted, images of the past; battles waged on mist laden fields, a journey by ship across an azure sea. Meaningless and yet, at the same time--feeling--familiar.

Cedric smiled down at Ian as the last vestiges of sleep let loose their hold and his eyes opened.

"Oh god, its you Cedric, what time is it?" Ian asked as he rose slowly from the chair, his muscles screaming in protest at being held for too long in the same position.

"Almost 8am," Cedric replied as he opened the curtains and let the diffuse light from the overcast day spill into the room.

It was a quintessential Lords room.

Dark cherry paneling covered the walls, high arched windows let in the eastern light. An oversize canopy bed dominated the center of the room across from the massive stone fireplace.

"Could you bring me some coffee and a muffin please?" Ian asked Cedric as he moved into the bathroom.

"Of course sir" replied Cedric, closing the door as he left the room.

The hot water felt good, easing the tension out of Ian's muscles and reviving his spirit.

'Michael will survive, ' he thought as he lathered his body.

'It will be a tough few weeks but in the end he is a survivor and will put this loss into perspective. Coming out the other side of his grief a stronger person, ' Ian reflected as he rinsed off and stepped from the shower.

The stone floor was cold, a shock from the steaming shower, toweling off he looked at himself in the mirror.

'Not too bad for the number of years put on the old body, ' he thought, reaching for his Acqua Di Parma shaving gel he looked over his body as he lathered his face.

At 6'1 Ian was tall for an Englishman, dark close-cropped hair with just a hint of gray, a lean silhouette that still had a fairly well defined musculature for a man of his years.

Finishing his morning ritual, Ian stepped into his closet. Pulling on a Stefano Rici button down with his favorite pair of faded Levis and his Bragano loafers he felt normal once again.

Cedric had left his coffee and he absently sipped at it, replaying the funeral in his mind once again. "Michael will be fine," he said to the air as he strode from the room looking forward to feeling Millie in his arms.

Ian stood next to the helipad as the Eurocopter Calibri EC120B circled and came to a light stop 20ft away.

And in the next moment she was there, stepping out of the passenger door, Millie waved to the pilot as she walked over to Ian.

'God its been to long, ' she thought as she had to contain her first impulse to run into his arms.

When she finally reached him they fell into an easy embrace.

She could smell the Acqua Di Parma Colonia, feel his heart beating next to hers, 'gods why did she go on this trip, two weeks was too long not to be at his side, ' she thought as she pulled him closer.

Ian felt better the moment Millie was in his arms, how many times had they been in just this pose, one or the other of them coming home.

The separations were starting to wear on both of them.

A lifetime spent hopping around the globe tending to various problems was the status quo. Now she was back and all he wanted to do was get lost in her deep brown eyes, revel in suppleness of her thighs, feel the caress of her tongue battling with his.

But he would have to tell her of the incident first, he was already going to catch hell for not telling her a week ago when it happened, he felt it best to wait and tell her in person.

Sitting in the grand salon overlooking the maze Millie could sense that something was wrong. It had been two weeks and she was aching for Ian but he had insisted on a chat, that could only mean something had happened with Michael.

"Last Thursday Sasha was hit by a drunk driver" Ian began.

The blood drained from Millie's tanned face as he continued.

"She was medivac'd to Shands Hospital and underwent emergency surgery, they tried for hours to save her and the baby, but in the end her injuries were just too severe and she died on the operating table," Ian's statement hung in the air.