This is a little of my own sentiment, but I think it also works for Scarlett. I needed to write something a little stronger for her after my other story. So here goes it.
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"So…you think I'm repressed. Well, I'll let you in on a little secret, Rhett Butler. I'm not bloody repressed. Far from it. These little bursts of anger aren't the result of holding back my feelings. Oh, no. You should know what kind of woman you deigned to marry, 'God's gift to women'. Don't you dare smirk at me! I know what you do at nights when you don't come home. Whose arms you find comfort in," she taunted her voice dripping with contempt.
"Now, Scarlett…" he said threateningly.
"No!" she shrieked. "This is how I am, Rhett Butler. I never repress a damn thing! If I'm angry with you, I'll yell! I'm not exploding from suppressed rage. I'm furious in that damn moment so I'll shout in that damn moment. If I happen to be upset, I'll cry! I might happen to also throw a plate at your head. And you, my dear sir, will not say another damn thing about it or else…"
"So feisty. Bravo, my dear. Quite a performance. But you're forgetting something…" he trailed off.
"What?" she shouted, her chest heaving from her exertion.
He seemed a little distracted for a moment, but in less that a heartbeat, turned his attention back to her face. "How do you feel about me, Scarlett?"
"What?" she said a little breathlessly.
"That's what you repress, my dear. That's why you're so angry. Why can't you just admit it? I promise you'll feel better…"
"Why you arrogant…infuriating…You think I love you don't I? You go off with Belle and you think that I stay home pining away for you. You…you…" she stammered, flustered from anger and embarrassment.
"Yes?" he murmured in that irritating way of his that never failed to raise her hackles.
Scarlett's eyes darted around the room looking for something to strike him with. She stroked the cruet of brandy. "Such a delicate container for such a strong drink…It just doesn't seem right." She lifted the container, prepared to crash it down against his skull.
His hand shot out faster than she could react, grasping her wrist tightly. "A lovely description, my dear, the cruet is much like you," he murmured. "I would not do that if I were you," he said quite calmly.
Her eyes flared. "I'll kill you…I…"
"Now you wouldn't want to do that Scarlett, people would talk. Besides, why kill the one man who actually loves you knowing all of your faults and not merely mesmerized by a pretty face?"
"You…Rhett?" she asked quietly, sounding like a lost little girl.