He was gone.
Nils took a deep breath and released it slowly through his clenched teeth.
Odin would not have brought him this warning as a jest.
The Allfather, who ruled from his high throne, was not like Loki.
How had his quest become entangled with the halls of
Asgard
?
None of this made any sense, but that did not matter.
He must do as he had vowed.
His foot struck something that skittered across the ground.
Picking it up, he saw it was a discarded ram’s horn.
He drew his knife and slashed the blade across the narrow end, smoothing it.
He blew through it.
The low, haunting sound rushed from the wider section of horn.
Turning to face the north, he saw everyone around the sheepfold had paused.
He paid them no mind as he blew in the horn again.
The sound rushed through him like the pounding of strength that filled a warrior’s body in the moments before he entered battle.
This was the call to rush to a ship that was waiting in the fjord.
His comrades would scurry from their cottages, so the hillside was dotted with the light from a score of torches.
With each man came his family to wish him good fortune and good hunting on this journey to distant shores.
It was the call to battle.
His battle.
In this place he had visited before but in this time he had never imagined.
* * * *
“Do you want to raise a cloud with us,
Niles
?”
Lord Sutherland held out an open box.
Nils reached for the odd article that he had seen the other men holding in their mouths while they burned one end of it.
By Thor’s hammer, he should have asked Linnea to explain what the purpose of the odious smoke was.
“It may not be as finely rolled a cigar as what the earl is accustomed to.”
Tuthill’s cool voice held a challenge, although Nils was not sure what setting fire to a rolled collection of leaves was intended to prove.
Tuthill should not be pouting like a child.
Through the afternoon and even at dinner, he had used every opportunity to turn the conversation to Dr. Foster’s research.
The professor had gleefully prattled on and on about his work and peppered Nils with questions.
While he attempted to answer them without revealing the truth, Tuthill had ogled Linnea.
Maybe Tuthill had expected Nils to retire for the evening when Dr. Foster had.
Instead, Nils had joined their host and his son and Tuthill here in the book-room in the hope that Linnea might come to bid her father good night.
He needed to talk to her.
Odin’s words were a warning that there was little time left.
They must go to
London
posthaste.
“I cannot say what an earl should or should not like, for I have not led an earl’s life long,” Nils said in response to Tuthill’s sharp comment.
Nils might as well be honest when he could.
Even a hint of the truth might unnerve Tuthill enough to keep him from getting too close to the whole of Nils’s past.
“However, I assume that because Lord Sutherland is offering these to us they meet his standards.”
Lord Sutherland’s brows shot up.
“You are only recently in receipt of your title?
Who held it before?
Mayhap I knew the previous earl.”
“I doubt that.
My uncle was seldom anywhere but at his dirty acres.”
He chuckled as he recounted the story that Linnea had devised for him.
Determined to stick to the simple facts, because anything intricate might trip him later, he said, “I fear I have inherited more than his title, for he also was fascinated by the past.
He traveled often in pursuit of his studies, but only through books.
In that way, we differ.
I like to
see
the places I am studying, so I have been wandering throughout this part of the island in search of the sites I have read about.”
Tuthill took a brand from the hearth and lit his cigar.
Holding it out to Nils, he said, “You will find it smokes more easily if you clip off an end first.”
“Here.”
Lord Sutherland took the cigar and snapped a small tool against its end.
“You would need three hands otherwise, my boy.”
Nils noticed how Tuthill stiffened when Linnea’s father addressed Nils in such a friendly tone.
“Thank you, Sutherland.”
He held the cigar between his fingers as Sutherland did.
The smoke was acrid.
It twisted up and around his face like a savage cat trying to claw its way up through his nose and into his brain.
He started to draw in a deep breath, then halted.
The odor now was burning in his chest.
Holding the cigar up to his lips as the other men did, he began to cough.
Tuthill sneered, “Too strong for you,
Barrington
?”
“A tickle...in my throat,” he gasped, not wanting to admit the viscount was correct.
He picked up his glass of wine and downed half of it in a single gulp.
It eased the fire in his lungs, but the smoke still curled up and around him from the cigar.
Setting it down beside his glass, he stood.
“Pardon me.”
“Are you all right, my boy?” Lord Sutherland asked.
“I am fine.”
That was a blatant lie.
“I will return after a visit to the necessary.”
His host chuckled and waved his hand to dismiss him.
“Hurry back.
I want your opinion on where best to direct Dr. Foster tomorrow to keep him out of what little hair I have left.”
“Of course.”
Nils walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Retching, he rushed to the far end of the hall and threw open the doors that led to a balcony.
Fresh air!
He wanted fresh air.
He gulped mouthfuls, then sat on the stones and looked out to sea.
Leaning his head back against the wall of the house, he sighed.
He must be more careful.
Another mistake like that could divulge the truth.
“I shall close the door, Mama.
I—
Niles
!”
Linnea slipped out the door and, closing it, dropped to her knees beside him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You are a rather bilious shade of green.”
“No doubt.”
He held up his sleeve and sniffed it.
Choking, he offered it to her.
She sniffed and pulled back.
“Cigar smoke!
I hate its smell.
It makes me nauseous.
“Apparently it does the same to me.”
Linnea stared at Nils’s strained face.
Egad!
She had not paused to guess that he never had smoked before.
Tobacco would have been unknown in
England
in his time.
No wonder he appeared such an odd shade.
She did not intend to, but she began to laugh.
Once she started, she could not stop.
She pressed her hands to her side as her laughter stitched a pain in it.
“Your compassion is touching,” he said dryly.
“I am sorry.”
She sat back on her heels.
“But I find it so amusing that a man who has fought incredible battles, sailed across the sea in a ship that is not much bigger than a carriage and four, and can make a ram’s horn into a musical instrument is laid so low by the smell of a cigar.”
“It is quite ironic, isn’t it?”
“You will need to accustom yourself to the smell.
Gentlemen often smoke cigars and pipes in
London
.”
His eyes glittered strangely as he rose to his knees.
Taking her hands, he pressed them to his chest.
“
Unnasta
, let us leave for
London
tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
She stared up into his eyes that burned with his obsession.
“Nils, I told you why we must wait until Papa goes to Town.”
“Bring Olive with you.
Then you are not traveling alone.”
“But—”
“Bring Jack as well.
Between them, they will provide all the chaperones you require.”
He released her hands and gently clasped her face.
“
Unnasta
, if you bring them with us—”
“Even if Mama and Papa would consider allowing us to travel so, it does not matter.
I promised
Randolph
I would be by his side to greet his guests at an assembly he is having on Saturday evening.”
She drew his hands down from her cheeks.
“That is only four days from now.
Once I have done that, we can talk more about this.”
“Are you so sure that we will be able to talk more about this then?”
“Of course.
After the assembly—”
“Where Tuthill expects you to announce that you will marry him.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Yes, he expects that.”
“He will not appreciate having his betrothed leaving for
London
with another man.”
“I did not say that I would marry him.”
“You did not say that you would not.”
She gripped his hands tightly.
“Nils, I must go to this assembly.
Mayhap I will be able to find the way to tell
Randolph
the truth in a way that will not hurt him. ”
“Forget Tuthill.
It is imperative that we leave posthaste.”
“Nils, I
promised
him.”