Written for Yuidirnt at Comment Fic.

Prompt: Thorn apple (deceitful charms).

CHARMING COMPANIONS

by Leni

"My dear Mrs. Hamilton!" Rhett greets her, gesturing to take her hand for a kiss before she's quite decided to offer it. He likes that she doesn't even pretend to blush at his forwardness anymore. But then, they're quite secluded on this side of the dance floor. "I've been admiring you all night, if you must know," he says, putting on an air of confession. "Never thought I'd catch you between dance partners!"

Scarlett eyes him, her smile frozen as she deliberates his meaning. His most charming lines often hide the sharpest barbs, she well knows, and she has finally learned to tread carefully around his compliments.

Rhett likes that as well. Let her grin and exchange silly flirtations with the hopeful soldiers and the besotted officers making their way through Atlanta; they deserve a sweet memory to take back to the front. But he has no war looming in his future, so he has no need for Scarlett's empty charms.

He'll always rather have a true reaction from her, this he knows.

"Everybody is in high spirits," she tells him, her voice a cheery chirp but her eyes cautious, "I don't think any girl tonight has an empty spot on their dance card."

He sweeps aside the denial to his unsaid request. There will be more dances, and he can be patient. "But yours filled up first, I bet."

Her green eyes flash with a but of course! she still won't allow herself to verbalize.

"I can picture your admirers fighting for a spot," he continues. "I wonder that it didn't come to pistols at dawn."

The girl perks up at that thought. Of course she does, his bloodthirsty little cat. "Don't be silly! They were the picture of politeness," -she gives him a pointed look- "and nothing could convince me to let any of them down."

Rhett raises an eyebrow in mocking disapproval at her bluntness.

Scarlett tilts her chin up and doesn't take back her words.

(How he likes this about her!)

Any other girl would have been all nerves at the prospect of denying him a dance. He may be disgraced in the eyes of the Atlanta matrons and an insult away from coming to fisticuffs with their patriotic husbands, but among the poor fare their daughters are offered, ever thinner and more somber with every lost battle, Rhett Butler is a man made of fantasy, and forbidden to boot.

The younger chits may fear him, but they might brave a dance with him should he seek them out.

(So he doesn't.)

Only Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton would try to put him in his place, no matter how clumsy the attempt.

Of course, only Scarlett does it while flaunting the unwritten law of the city and conversing willingly with him. Any other girl would have long sent a silent call for help, whether she meant for it to be answered or not.

"Well, then, Mrs. Hamilton, I am properly chastised for my lateness." He makes an apologetic bow, all appearance and no substance, and gives her his best hopeful look. "For surely you saved me a spot until the last possible minute?"

"To the very last second," Scarlett replies airily, not one sincere word to it.

This is the biggest party Atlanta has seen in months. Rhett cannot imagine that the greedy girl didn't snag for herself as many of the bigger prey as soon as she could. So far he's watched her dance with colonels and majors, and even an old general she's allowed to step on her feet twice before sweetly directing him to the refreshment table. The other girls are lucky the night isn't long enough for Scarlett to steal away the attention of lieutenants and sergeants as well.

He can't help but approve of her single-mindedness. He almost likes that about her, if it didn't lead her also down the aimless path of Ashley Wilkes and his empty words. (It's the deeds that count, but she's too young to truly grasp that truth.)

"An impossible task, to keep our brave heroes away from such delectable prize," he tells her, "I may well have succumbed along with them, and hurried to sign my name." He enjoys the sight of the little frown that says she's not sure whether he's mocking the other men, her, or perhaps only himself.

Rhett can see the moment Scarlett decides to be flattered anyway.

A suitable dimpled smile is his reward.

"Now that's better," he says, his smile just as fake. "You make it so easy to forget you're a recent widow, my dear." He waits until her expression wavers, and finishes with, "Beware one of our brave boys won't make you a bride again."

Her whole body snaps back at his words, and her cheeks pale with the thought. "You jest, Captain," she says through her teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously and giving him a reproachful glare. Nobody else would dare speak of marriage to the mother of a fallen hero's son, not as a joke, not unless they meant it and declared their love at the same time. The situation may be the opposite of the decent proposals she's gotten - and who knew a nurse could get so many admirers? - but Scarlett fishes for the same excuse that has so far served her so well. "Unthinkable. With poor Charles not two years in his grave!"

He gives her an amused look. "Some men may not be as patient as to wait for... your grief to abate."

Scarlett sniffs, all affront (all a front, too). "Well, they should be! Charles and I..."

His knowing smirk might have something to do with her sudden inability to complete that sentence. "Ah, yes. The two of you, such a happy couple. Forgive me for forgetting your marital bliss, Mrs. Hamilton. And yet..." Rhett continues, meeting her scalding gaze, "here you've come to dance the night away."

"I... It's for charity. Everybody must do their part for the war effort," she recites.

"Indeed. I must praise you." He softens his features, for she is growing annoyed and that will only serve to cut this interview short. "But it helps that you belong on the dance floor, my dear. I'm happy to have done my part for that particular effort."

The memory of who held her through that first dance out of widowhood's chains hovers between them.

Scarlett softens, just a little. "How you like to tease!" she says, but her tone still doesn't match the breezy words.

"I'm a bad man," he agrees, a true grin on his face, and decides to steal himself back into her good graces. "And now I'll prove that I can be worse..."

She leans in, the curious thing.

"I've picked out a little something for you during my time away. Something I'm sure it will go splendidly with that fetching hat of yours." Her eyes brighten, and there it is, the true reaction he's sought. No matter how angry Scarlett might be, the girl cannot deny herself a pretty gift - and the one thing she trusts in him is his taste - any more than she can stop digging for a compliment. "And" -he lowers his voice to a confidential whisper- "I'm not telling you what it is."

Her laughter draws the attention of the people closest to them, along with their disapproving head shakes. Rhett looks around calmly, meeting their eyes, and they subside back into their conversations before Scarlett's noticed a thing.

"You're rotten, Captain!" she happily tells him.

This time her cheer isn't feigned, he notes.

He sweeps her a bow. "I aim to please, my dear."

Scarlett just laughs with him, never noticing that, for once, his words tell nothing but the truth.

THE END

10/10/14