DISCLAIMER: in the first chapter...

A/N: Oh, the famous morning after... :P This chapter may be subjet to change before the next (and last) comes along. Please let me know what you think, no matter how much you liked it or how much you thought it was crap. I can take it! :D


PUGNACIOUS and DRUNK 3

By bloodymary2


Scarlett felt her cheeks burning, a blush surely rising up her neck to color her face, before her eyes had even opened.

Just the memory of the night before... The places Rhett had dared to kiss and the way his large and rough hands had touched her skin and the closeness of their sweaty, naked bodies had been so pleasurable they could only be sinful. And she hadn`t even voiced the smallest of protests! Quite the contrary, in fact.

Oh, the shame.

No.

She would not be thinking of such things. They were better left for later.

Much, much later.

With a bit of dread and a lot of caution, she cracked one eye open, then the other. There was not much to be seen, however; her face was buried in the nook of something warm and comfortable and a bit ticklish. And not even Scarlett, dense and simple-minded, could overlook the fact that she was draped over Rhett Butler like a shameless rag doll, her naked body touching his in places she couldn`t even properly name. Places she now felt more acutely than she had ever before, sore as they were.

She opened her mouth to breathe in deeply and then hesitated, eyes going wide.

Waking her husband up and having to face exactly what the night before had entailed was not high on her to do list. Actually, it wasn`t even on the list! Surely, Rhett would find a way to twist it in a way that would make it entirely her fault, when he had been the one to enter her bedroom drunk as a skunk. No, she would not be made a fool of.

Decision made, Scarlett concentrated on taking regular breaths and on Rhett`s immobility. Considering his deep breathing - he was snoring rather loudly - and his completely relaxed stance, she thought it safe to attempt to extricate herself from his embrace.

Not that she would put it past him to pretend to be asleep, but it was a possibility she preferred not to contemplate.

With more care than she had ever employed on any of her movements, even during her county belle days, Scarlett pulled her hand away from his hairy chest, untangled her leg from around his - ignoring what exactly her thigh had been touching seconds before - and then slowly rolled away from her husband`s slumbering form. Before even considering getting up from the soft mattress, she paused to make sure Rhett was still making the same noises as before.

He did not move, nor did he stop snoring.

Relief lasted her all the way out the bed and into her changing room. Picking a dress at random - who could think of colors and patterns and details when Rhett could wake up any moment! -, Scarlett cleaned herself up and got dressed. It had been so long since she had laced herself up without assistance that she could scarcely remember it, but that hardly mattered, when she could still do it fine by herself. In record time, she was tiptoeing around the bed towards the door.

But, wait…

Rhett wasn`t snoring anymore, though.

Filled with trepidation, that gripped her heart and made it almost skip a beat, she chanced a peek over her shoulder. Her tensed muscles relaxed and an involuntary smile flourished over her lips at the sight that greeted her. Far from being awake, Rhett had rolled over in his sleep and hugged the nearest thing to him, which turned out to be one of her many pillows. The change of position must have prevented him from making noise while breathing; he didn't look anywhere near awake. Actually, her big, powerful husband seemed to be snuggling adorably with her fluffy pillow, while inhaling its scent.

Her scent.

The smile she had been sporting turned into a smirk of satisfaction. Though not usually contemplative, Scarlett felt confused, because it wasn`t the power she could yield over him with that bit of information that made her feel so satiated, but the thought that he might miss her arms as much as she did his at that mom...

Scarlett, stop!

Eyes wide at her own wayward thoughts, Scarlett shook her head. She would not entertain such ridiculous notions.

Her, missing Rhett. It was beyond ridiculous.

Had Scarlett been armed with a vaster vocabulary, she would have probably used the word preposterous. She was, after all, in love with another man and shouldn't have had time, nor inclination, to entertain such thoughts about a man so different from Ashley. Shouldn't being the operative word, of course. Scarlett was, however, not inclined towards self analysis and pushed all thoughts and emotions to the back of her mind for a later date.

Maybe.

Swiftly, she left her bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her. For a brief moment, she hesitated, wondering what her next step should be; surely it was too early to leave the house. Scarlett worried her lower lip as her gaze swept the hall. Her assumption on the time was proven wrong, when her green eyes landed on the grandfather clock sitting near the staircase.

It was past midday already!

Surprise was replaced by puzzlement. The heavy curtains covering the wide windows of her room hadn't allowed much light in and she hadn't contemplated opening them, less the clarity disturb Rhett's slumber. But midday? She felt so tired; it was hard for her to believe it. The worn-out feeling of her sore limbs only served to confirm her suspicion that rest had been flitting. The idea that maybe she really hadn`t slept that much - occupied as she had been with other activities she refused to think about - didn`t really cross her mind.

She didn't allow it to.

Breathing in deeply, Scarlett continued down the hall, away from Rhett.

After a quick check in on the nursery - the older children were up and about and Bonnie had just been fed and put to her midday nap by Mammy herself -, Scarlett left the suddenly uninviting mansion. For a house so big, she felt sure the walls had been closing in on her. It was only when she sat comfortably down in her carriage that she gave a destination any thought. It was unsurprising that the first place that came to mind were the lumber mills.

The ones Ashley ran, of course.

The thought of fair headed Ashley made her feel instantly happier, as it had a tendency to do in the past. However, the heavy burden of things she insisted on repressing and of memories she simply couldn`t allow herself to remember, tempting as they were, prevented her from achieving real weightlessness. It was something she wasn't used to; just the thought of her beloved had been enough to lift her spirits in the past.

All would be heavenly, though, when she saw him. She was sure of it.

Determined, Scarlett put the coach into motion.

------

The feeling of waking in a strange environment, no real memories of getting there, was nothing new to Rhett Butler and didn't warrant reason for panic.

What made his stomach lurch and his heart constrict, though, was not the sense that this was not his room or where he had intended to end up the night before. No, the panic arose when his nose caught wind of the sweet scent of roses and verbena; a familiar smell if there ever was one.

Scarlett.

Quickly, he shot up in bed, eyes surveying his surroundings with quiet efficiency. He hadn't been mistaken, then. He was in her room, a bedroom he had once claimed as his. But, no. Not anymore. Swallowing with some difficulty due to a dry throat, Rhett became aware of three most important things. One, he was alone. Two, he was as free of clothing as the day he had been born. And three, he was sporting a head splitting ache between both temporal lobes.

Now, hangovers were not really something he was unfamiliar with. On the contrary, they were practically an everyday occurrence. Waking up naked and temporarily amnesiac was also not something he hadn't done before. But never on his wife's bed, especially not since the dreadful day she had declared their marital relations a thing of the past.

No, no, no, no…

This couldn't be happening.

Rhett rubbed the last wisps of sleep and drunkenness out of his eyes and contemplated the empty, though thoroughly messy bed linens around him. He could have wasted time fooling himself into believing his present location and the state of disarray of the sheets did not mean what it so painfully seemed to mean. That would go against the way Rhett faced to world, though.

Exuding a calm he was far from feeling, he rose, allowing the sheet to fall away from his body. Priorities, he thought. First, a bath, because even he could smell the rancid booze scent he was exuding. Then, clothes. And finally, of not more important, find Scarlett.

She was surely cursing him and all his ancestors for the night before.

Had he ever been that drunk?

Had he been forceful? Had her cries for him to stop been ignored? Could she possibly hate him more now than she had before? He could vaguely recall whips of memories, of kissing her skin and taking her, but it was too fragmented. Rhett breathed in deeply, trying to push dread and regret away from his thoughts. If only he hadn't drank into oblivion. If only he hadn't allowed his anger to drive him to it, an irrational anger. If only he hadn't seen Ashley Wilkes enter Belle's whorehouse, intent to disappear upstairs with the first willing body.

If only, if only, if only…

Focus, Butler.

There was no sense in wondering about a past he could not change.

------------

Dressed and smelling infinitely better, though his headache persisted, Rhett left his room and went to the nursery. The clock announced the time as being past noon and Bonnie would soon be waking from her nap. The kids would also be there. He had to kill time until Scarlett chose to return from wherever it was she had decided to run off to after waking up.

Maybe it was wishful thinking or denial, but Rhett didn't, for a moment, think she might not have come back.

The sun was already setting in the horizon when the mistress of the house finally came through the heavy oak front door, looking hesitant. Rhett watched her enter the parlor, where he sat, with Bonnie lying against his chest, fast asleep. He said nothing, waiting for her to notice his presence. And he knew the minute she did; her spine shot straight and her eyes were quickly cast away.

Sigh.

He shouldn't have expected any less.

"Come sit by me, Mrs. Butler." There was no room in his voice for interpretation; he was giving an order. Now, she could have chosen to ignore it – had done so in the past -, but that gave her the perfect excuse make conversation and move beyond the happenings of the night before.

She should have guessed he wouldn't let it go so easily.

"Everything well at the mills?"

Her eyes flew upwards, surprise shinning in the green of its orbs. How did he know… But wasn't that what she did most days? Scarlett chastened herself for making a big deal out of such a simple question and returned to her fixed contemplation of the Persian rug. "Yes. I had to make some revisions to the books, but otherwise, yes."

"And Mr. Wilkes? Is he well? I saw him just yesterday."

"I guess so, yes."

A long silence followed, neither party willing to bring up the one thing they so desperately wanted to talk about. Scarlett kept her gaze down, while Rhett's eyes never wavered from her downcast face. He could feel the fear growing within him with each second she shied away from him; obviously his actions had been even worse than even he had first thought.

Pained by her rejection, he sighed and excused himself to put Bonnie in her cradle. Rhett didn't look back, as he left the room, shoulders slightly hunched.

Had he spared a glance to the woman he left behind, he would have seen her tense shoulders shudder with a deep sigh and her hand squeeze the soft fabric of her gown. When her eyes finally raised, fear tinted her expressive green orbs. Not for the things they had done the night before – things she dared not think about -, but fear that her husband would reject her the same way she had him a few weeks before.

A lone tear ran down her pale cheek.

That night, Scarlett didn't come down to eat, nor did she have dinner brought to her room, as she would have normally done. It was unlike her to skip a meal.

But suddenly, she just wasn't hungry anymore.

-----------

Her wrapper was dragging against the dark carpet, as Scarlett descended the long staircase. Her steps were hesitant; more than once she stopped, drawing in deep breaths. There were very few instances in her life when she fainted. This might turn out to be one of them.

Stop it, Scarlett O'Hara!

She was not some ninny who was too afraid of her own shadow. And she certainly was not scared of Rhett Butler! She had faced a burning Atlanta and Yankees and hunger for longer days than she could even count. No, she was not afraid. Gathering her inner strength, she finished descending the stairs and made her way to the study, where she knew her husband awaited.

Hopefully.

She paused at the threshold, her eyes meeting Rhett's smothering gaze. A shiver ran up her spine. His face was impassive, though. And she hated it, hated that she could never really know what he was thinking, while he so easily read her like an open book.

"Come in, pet. You know I don't mind you nightly drinking habits." His voice was taunting, as usual, and that angered her. Couldn't he be nice, once in a while?

She ignored it, though, and walked calmly towards the intricately carved cruet to pour herself a glass of brandy. Eyes fixed on Rhett, she took a small sip. She wanted to drink more, maybe even down the entire glass at once, but she had to keep her mind clear.

With the glass in one hand and the cruet in the other, she walked towards Rhett and topped his almost empty glass. Scarlett could see a glimmer of surprise in his face and smiled in triumph; not so nonchalant now, Mr. Butler.

Her small victory was short lived, however. Rhett's penetrating eyes gazed up and down her body, noting the long slits on her nightgown that so easily exposed her legs and the half opened wrapper exposing her deep cleavage. His deliberate perusal left her self-conscious and a little bit breathless.

So much for having the upper hand.

When she refilled his glass again, without having taken a single sip of her own drink, he smirked. "Are you trying to get me drunk, my pet?"

Scarlett froze, unsure of how to proceed and silently cursing her failed plan.

-----------------

Relief.

Then surprise.

And lust.

Scarlett had always been an open book, her emotions and intentions always shinning through her cat like green eyes. And this moment was no different. There was no fear there, no repulsion. On the contrary, if her revealing nightgown was anything to go by.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, my pet?"

He had expected her to look indignant or perhaps even angry - she had a temper on her, after all, one he rather liked to flare up once in a while – but, instead, she seemed guilty and unsure. Would she storm away? Ignore his barb?

She did neither, only uttered a single, simple word.

"Yes."

"What?" Her reply caught him completely off guard. The glass which had been halfway to his lips faltered and his neutral face betrayed him. It was only for a millisecond and Scarlett couldn't really be sure of his reaction, so fast did it slip back into that careless casual air he so often presented. Still.

Eyes narrowed, he studied her face. "Pray tell, why, Mrs. Butler."

Her courage and blunt honesty seemed to fail her than; she looked sideways and remained silent. It was more than enough time for Rhett to regain completely his composure.

"Come on, pet, it is a little late for that demure act you're so fond of. And useless, too. I know you too well, Scarlett." He paused, observing "Now, I wonder… What could you possible gain from getting me, shall we say, properly inebriated?"

And because he couldn't help it, "Didn't you get enough of it last night?"

Scarlett blushed a deep crimson and lowered her head even further. Rhett couldn't let her withdraw like that; not after her blunt and suggestive answer. There was only so much a man could take, before being forced into action.

Faster than the blink of an eye, Rhett was off his seat and standing in front of his reluctant wife. When Scarlett saw his leather clad feet appear in her line of sight, she jumped back, gaze inadvertently landing on Rhett's penetrating eyes.

She couldn't breathe.

It was like Rhett's tall and broad frame occupied far too much space, leaving no room for the precious air her lungs seemed to lack. His eyes bore into hers and she felt naked under his intense scrutiny; Scarlett had always hated how well he could read her every thought just by doing that.

"W… well, it's getting quite late, Rhett, and I'm rather tired. I didn't get much sleep last nigh…" She trailed off as the meaning of her words registered; it had not been her intention to revisit the topic of the night before. Rhett limited himself to smiling maliciously.

"Tired, huh?" He leaned even closer, if that was even remotely possible. His breath wasn't as heavily laced with alcohol as the last time their faces had been so close. "A good tired, or a bad tired, pet?"

"I… I…" She didn't know what words to say, or even what she would want to convey had she been more agile with them.

"Is it possible, Scarlett, that you enjoyed my kisses more than you wanted? Is it even remotely possible that my touch brought you more pleasure than honorable Ashley could ever dream of bringing a woman?" Scarlett's hazy eyes turned sharp, her mouth twisting in anger.

Incensed with his words, she pulled her body backwards, using her own weight to free herself from Rhett's sturdy hold, while her wrists hit his chest. She hated that he couldn't go a whole five minutes without being mean.

"You are a cad, Rhett Butler, and I don't ever want to enter my bedroom ever again!" Her attempts to free herself failed; she wouldn't be able to leave for as long as Rhett held her so firmly. "At least Ashley is a gentleman and makes me feel happy!"

It wasn't true, of course, none of it. She missed Rhett's arms during the dark hours of the night and not even the few hours she saw Ashley every other day could fill the void within her. Unfortunately, when her temper flared, her mind tended to cloud over and Scarlett lost control of the words coming out of her mouth. More than once, regret came immediately thereafter. But to admit she was wrong?

Never!

Not even when the consequences proved to be so heart breaking.

Scarlett choked down a sob and renewed her attempts to break free. "Let me go, you brute!"

Rhett's eyes shone with anger. No one could infuriate him like his wife could. Unable to control himself any longer, he shook her shoulders, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers a little more forcefully than he normally would.

"Is it that I can't do anything right!" He saw fear enter her brilliant green eyes, but couldn't bring himself to stop. "What?! You ran like a scared kitten this morning from your horrendous cad of a husband and went to see your precious Ashley. Did you feel better, huh?" Another shake; Scarlett held back a sob. "It made you feel brave, did it not, my pet?" He was calming down. "Brave enough to try getting me drunk again."

Once last shake and Rhett released her arms, making her stumble backwards. He looked tired and defeated.

"Why would you do that, Scarlett. Everything else, I more than expected, but why would you want to get me drunk again?" His panting turned into deep breaths. "What do you want?"

Scarlett still didn't have the words. And even if she knew just what to say, how could she tell Rhett without appearing weak and vulnerable? He already had so much power over her, already knew her so well. She couldn't let him win like that.

Silly emotions, anyway, making her want more than she already had.

"N… nothing." Her husband turned away, disappointed.

Instead of feeling relieved to see herself free of his questioning, Scarlett felt sad and empty. And so very tired. A hand rose of its own accord and reached for Rhett's broad back, willing him to turn or trying to bring him closer. She didn't know which. With a sigh, her heavy arm dropped.

Scarlett didn't like this horrible tension and all these conflicting emotions.

Why couldn't things go back to the way they were in New Orleans?

She had been happy then, she was sure.

Hadn't she?