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He was not alone in his desire, and judging from the past day, that fact had not changed. Though of course, everything else had changed.

“I’m unsure,” he said finally. “I believe his desire to host the most important event along the border will be our own salvation.”

“And yet?”

His brother knew him well. As it was nearly midday, a meal awaited them in the great hall. When he was hungry, Graeme did not like to waste time with words.

“His daughter does not agree.”

He’d considered not telling Graeme about her, and from his brother’s expression, perhaps his first instinct—to stay quiet—had been correct. But he’d not kept anything from him before, and he would not do so now.

“Explain.”

Shite.

“Just as we were leaving Theffield Castle, his daughter . . .”

Graeme raised his brows, no doubt thinking about Aidan’s account of what had happened between them two years earlier.

“His daughter sought our help. She needed escort to Sutworth—”

“So why did her father not provide her escort? And what was she doing at—”

“Her father did not know she planned to hide away at Sutworth to convince their priest to sponsor her into the Benedictine Order of nuns at Dunburg.”

If the situation were not so dire, he’d have laughed at Graeme’s expression. “Theffield does not yet know Lord Stanley appealed for, and was granted, the right to annul their marriage.”

Graeme looked every bit as shocked as Aidan had felt upon hearing Clarissa’s plan. He waited as the information penetrated . . . and for the yelling that was sure to—

“You abducted the Earl of Theffield’s daughter, the same earl who is our only chance at regaining any semblance of peace along the border . . .”

It seemed Graeme was too overwrought to continue. His anger was warranted. He should not have done this to him, to their clan, and yet he’d had no other choice.

His brother’s fit of anger was interrupted by Gillian, who had come running into the room at the sound of shouting.

“What in the name of . . .”

She looked at Graeme first and then him. The sight of her, and her rounded belly, reminded him of the stakes. Of the danger he’d put them in.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never should have agreed.”

“Never should have agreed to what?” Gillian asked in confusion.

By now Graeme was standing . . . nay, pacing . . . and he continued to do so as Aidan explained the situation to Gillian. Her eyes seemed to widen with every word. When he finished, she said, “This does not seem like you, Aidan. But I can see you were just attempting to do the honorable thing for a woman in need—”

Aidan said, “If it were any other woman—”

“But it was not any other woman,” Graeme said, his voice calmer now. “’Tis done.”

“You never finished your story about the daughter,” Gillian interjected. “You said you saw her again, years later. But you didn’t tell me where, or what happened.”

Graeme expelled a long, exaggerated breath. “They met again two years ago at the Tournament of the North. They recognized each other, and she gave Aidan her favor. Somehow, despite the watchful eye of her very controlling father, the two managed a series of private meetings. But she failed to meet him at their final arranged rendezvous, and he never heard from her again.”

And now his brother was not the only angry one in the room.

“You risked the mission for a woman who broke your heart—”

“She did not,” he ground out, “break my heart.”