And they did need to discuss what had happened last night between them. Hewantedto.He, the man who rarely discussed anything with a woman or anyone else.
“Chattan,” Monty said, rushing up to him, “I followed your suggestions and they worked!”
It took a moment for Harry to pull his thoughts away from Portia Maclean. “My suggestions?”
“I tried to be myself around Ariana,” Monty announced proudly. “I asked her a direct question and she spoke to me. We had a conversation.”
“Did she speak kindly?” Harry had to ask. Lady Maclean had spoken to Monty before but not with the sweetness of her sex.
“Yes,” Monty said as if that was quite an accomplishment. Harry started walking to where they’d tethered their horses, and the general fell into step beside him. “I asked her opinion about a soiree I’m having. I told her that I desperately needed advice from an accomplished and well-respected hostess as herself. I asked if perhaps she could give me a moment of her time, and she did.”
“You are having asoiree?” Harry asked with disbelief. He mounted his horse.
“It’s one of those words the ladies like,” Monty said, climbing into the saddle of his own horse. “She didn’t question my use of it. Anyway, the conversation went better than I could imagine.Who knew that all I had to do was ask Ariana questions and then she’d answer me and we would be talking?”
“Monty,” Harry said, concerned for his friend, “are you certain this is the woman you want?”
“With all my heart,” Monty replied.
“Poor bugger,” Harry said under his breath. He set Ajax down the road.
“I don’t expect you to understand, Chattan. You aren’t the sort of man who knowshowto love or even values it.”
This comment caught Harry’s attention. “I value love.”
“I challenge that,” Monty said with his newfound confidence. “Tell me, have you ever been constant to one woman for, let’s say, more than three weeks or even three days in your life?”
“What do you mean by ‘constant’?” Harry asked, suddenly not liking this conversation.
“I mean that you are true and faithful to her. That you would cherish her.”
“I’ve cherished many women,” Harry answered.
“One at a time, Chattan.Onewoman, for a long period of time, and because you valued her mind and her opinion as well as her body. I don’t believe you’ve even had a mistress.”
“I didn’t see the purpose to it,” Harry answered. “Why focus my energy on one bit of muslin when there are all these others begging for me to notice them?”
“And that is why I know you’ve never been in love,” Monty announced with a crow of satisfaction, as if he’d proven his theory correct.
“Maybe I don’t want to be in love,” Harry returned. “What good is it anyway? You’ve been miserable being in love.”
“But today, I am ecstatic,” Monty declared. “I spoke to her and she was civil. I just need to come up with a method to keep her that way.”
“Yes, you can’t have a ‘soiree’ every day.”
Monty’s pride in his accomplishment was so great, he dismissed Harry’s sarcasm with a wave.
But Harry couldn’t dismiss his friend’s criticism. In truth, Harry was reaching the age when bachelorhood was no longer attractive. He’d noticed that once a man closed in on five and thirty, he became overly self-indulgent, spending his time on petty things that didn’t matter like the cut of a glove or ridiculous jealousies. Harry was only a few years away from that age.
He’d never thought that way before, but since in Glenfinnan and sober, he discovered some of his attitudes were changing.
His brother had leaped into love once he’d met his wife, Thea. He adored her with all his heart and soul, and Harry had never seen Neal happier. He’d told Harry that life now held meaning whereas before it had lacked any sense of purpose beyond duty.
“Do you feel life has meaning now?” Harry suddenly asked Monty, curious as to his response.
The general turned to him in surprise. “I was just thinking that. I was looking at the passing scenery that I have seen a dozen times before, and it all looks new to me. There is no reason other than the pleasure I have in Ariana’s speaking to me.”
Harry took in the stately firs lining the road through Moncrieffe’s estate. It all looked the same to him now as it had when they arrived. They were trees, and he doubted any emotion, even love, could make them seem different to him.
