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“You’ve accused de Sowlis of hiding your daughter, and refuse to treat with us until he relents. I believe it’s time for you to explain yourself.”

Even the earl was not immune to Douglas’s powers of persuasion. Though the man clearly did not appreciate being given an order, he answered Douglas despite it.

“As you may have heard,” Theffield said, his eyes never leaving Aidan, “my daughter’s marriage to Lord Stanley was recently annulled.”

Though Aidan had known about the annulment, of course, hearing it said aloud gave Aidan nearly as much pleasure as reaching across the wooden table and punching the earl in the face would have. He’d thought of that punch, and the pleasure it would give him, from the moment he entered the keep. Only his memory of his father’s lecture on what it meant to be a guest in another’s home, even an enemy’s home, had given him the strength to restrain himself.

And, of course, Douglas. Aidan did value his own life, after all.

“She returned to Theffield but has since—” he cleared his throat, “—gone missing.”

Aidan could feel Douglas looking at him, but he did not meet the man’s gaze. Instead, he watched the earl as closely as if Clarissa’s life depended on it.

Because it very well might.

“And you believe de Sowlis to be involved?”

“I know he is,” Theffield insisted, but he blinked just before he made the bold accusation.

He was lying.

Theffield may think he was involved in Clarissa’s disappearance, but he did not know for certain.

“De Sowlis?”

He would rectify his sin later. But for now, lying to Douglas may very well be the difference between keeping, or losing, Theffield’s support.

“I had nothing to do with his daughter’s disappearance,” he said, his voice firm. Turning to the earl, he said, “Putting our tenuous alliance in jeopardy would not be in the best interest of my clan.”

Theffield’s eyes narrowed. The earl did not believe him.

“We shall see.”

And then the brute smiled.

Aidan thanked whichever saint had led Malcolm to reveal what he knew of Clarissa’s stay at Highgate End. For if he’d not admitted as much, she would still be there when Theffield’s men arrived to search the castle. Graeme could refuse them, of course, but doing so would not relieve the earl’s suspicion.

As if reading his thoughts, Theffield said, “My men are likely already discovering the truth, or mistruth, of your words.”

Just as he’d suspected. But Aidan played along with the Englishman who thought he was so damn clever. “Your men?”

Theffield stood so abruptly the chair nearly toppled behind him. “The men I have dispatched to Highgate End,” he declared triumphantly. “If they find her, I will have you arrested.”

“And when they do not?” Aidan asked, standing.

Theffield’s head twitched from him to Douglas and back.

You should be nervous, you traitorous—

“If your men do not discover what you believe they will find at Highgate End?” Douglas prompted, sounding like a human version of the wild boar from which his nickname was derived. The man even had an inn named after him.

Theffield’s jaw twitched before that same cruel smile spread across his face again. He was so certain of his victory.

“If Clan Scott is proven innocent,” he said, “then I shall order Caxton to relinquish his position as warden, providing the terms de Sowlis set forth still stand.”

“They do.” Douglas nodded—a courtesy he then undermined by walking from the room before the earl, an indication that he refused to defer to the man as a superior despite his title. “You will find us at the inn in your village,” he added, another slight against the earl.

Neither man spoke as they were escorted from the keep. Only after they’d mounted and ridden far beyond the outer walls, their men riding behind them, did the warden speak to him again. “And now, de Sowlis, I will have the truth.”