The Shepherd

Chapter 01

The Lord is...

Late August 2014

London, England.

The bedroom in the townhouse was in upheaval. The last of the boxes were packed, taped up tightly. The closets stood open, emptied of their contents, as were the drawers in the chest. Two large suitcases, along with an over-sized carry-on, lay open on the bed.

"My Lord, is there anything else you need?"

Guy looked up from his carry-on, his shaving kit in his hands. He surveyed the room. "I think that's everything." His eyes settled on the boxes. Strange, what few things he deemed necessary to take with him to Georgia. The next time he stepped into this home, he prayed he would be carrying a bride over the threshold.

A bride he had married over 800 years ago. But who was counting?

"Are you sure there is room in Mother's garage for the car?"

Jeffrey, his mother's driver, exhaled. The man was mired in pomp and ceremony and proper etiquette. His sons were another matter. "My Lord, if Madam says there is room in the garage for your car, then there is room. Even if we must build another garage."

The kit went into the carry-on. For not the first time, Guy checked the satchel again. His laptop, the computer power cord, his phone's power cord, two books. Tooth brush, tooth paste, deodorant, toiletries...

The first time Guy had traveled, there had been snow and he had been stranded for two days in an airport with nothing but an original hand held Gameboy, whose batteries had died in three hours.

Ah! Batteries! Do I need batteries? NO! Power charger...

He found the 3DS tucked in the pocket, relieved he had remembered the power charger and it was wrapped around the small gaming system.

Ipad... power cord...clean underwear... fresh shirt...

Yes, he had learned his lesson very well.

"Has Timothy arrived?" Timothy was Guy's man – driver, butler, late night card partner and drinking buddy. He was also one of Jeffrey's son. They looked alike, but had very different temperaments.

Just as his name was mentioned, the man showed up in the doorway. "Sir Guy?" He nodded to the boxes. "I'll put these in the trunk of the car and take them to the post after I drop you off at the airport." He picked up the top two. "Are you sure these will reach the correct address?"

Everything was in order. "I have been assured the U.S. Postal Service will leave notes at the flat I've rented and will hold the boxes for several weeks until I retrieve them." He had rented a small one bedroom apartment in Smyrna, an area he understood was a northwest suburb of Atlanta. "As we sent most of the things this morning, I should arrive before they do." His mother's servant nodded before picking up the other two boxes and headed down the stairs, leaving Guy alone in his bedroom.

He looked around one last time. The room had a genuinely masculine feel, dark and broody. There was not a touch of feminine influence anywhere. That would change when he returned with Genevieve. She would want to put her personal touch on the room, the entire abode.

If she returned with him.

For not the first time, he harbored doubts, wondered if she would welcome him. If she would want him. Everything had to be timed perfectly. The accident would occur in less than a month. For not the first time, he squelched the desire to reach out to her, warn her...

And for not the first time, Val's voice echoed in his brain, hissing still from that last conversation he had had with the angel.

'She will not know you, will not remember you. She will have no memories of your time together in Nottingham. Not until after the wreck. You must bide your time. Right now, she thinks she is in love with Robencourt. He must break her heart. She must go through that intersection. Only then can you approach her.'

Guy zipped up his suitcases, saving the carry-on for last. He had been in talks with George for some weeks. His wife's cancer had reached a critical point; there was nothing left for her. They met twice, a quiet agreement reached and agreed on. Guy had contacts stateside; impressive contacts. Many of his London clients owned various businesses, interests in the States. Guy had purposely cultivated clientele with such interests. He would bring much to this partnership. In time, the practices would merge, making it an international firm. Genevieve's contract was in his carry-on. That bit was taken care of; had been taken care of for some time.

"Gui?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Êtes-vous sûr?"

How many times had she asked him this? From his earliest memory, when he spoke of Genevieve, so positive, so sure, neither his father or mother questioned his memories, his determination. When he was 15, when he showed his mother the hidden niche behind the fireplace in the Master Bedroom of the old hunting lodge in Gisborne and the papers, the copies of the contract, that were within-

"How many times will you ask? I am sure."

"And if she does not remember you?"

This he had thought of many times. "If she does not remember and simply thinks of me as her attorney, then that is how it will be. I will save her company. That will not change." His eyes turned dark. "And then I will recapture her interest and her heart." His attention turned back to his luggage. "I know what she desires." The locks and combinations were secure. "I know what she needs."

Before he could pick up the suitcases, Guy was caught in a maternal hug. "If she breaks your heart-"

He kissed Elyana's forehead. "She won't. I know her. She belongs to me, whether she knows it or not."

She grabbed him tighter. "You should have been married by now. When I was your age, you and your brother were half grown."

"And you were a widow and you have refused to look at another man." His voice dropped. "I love her just a deeply. Would you deny me the love you had for Father?" The shake of her head against him was his answer.

He turned his mother loose and grabbing his carry-on, he left the room, ready to begin yet another chapter in his lives.

tbc