Note: Dear Readers - I know I've been AWOL for a few months, and I have several ongoing stories! (Hopefully I still have readers! :D )

I have a good excuse for being away, as I got married in May to the love of my life! Planning a wedding/honeymoon gets in the way of writing my fan fiction. But I am back to reality- never fear!

Warning to the young ones - there is a little bit of lovey-dovey-ness in this chapter that may flirt with a mature rating. I think I am safe leaving it Rated T - since I assume most teens have read much more explicit material in the latest YA novels currently on bookstore shelves.

6

Scarlett's heart was busily thudding within her chest. Panicked, she opened her mouth to tell him that there really was nothing in the parlor, but without warning his lips were moving over hers. She shivered as she felt his tongue ease into her mouth and began stroking the insides of her cheeks, twirling around her tongue. The lingering flavor of brandy remained on her tongue, and she focused on the taste of his mouth, not feeling at first his other hand moving between her legs and gently caressing her inner thigh.

Instinctively, Scarlett clamped her legs together. He lifted his mouth a scant breath from hers and laughed wryly. "Come now Scarlett, it is not as if it is the first time." He nudged her knees open just a bit, then touched her just there. "And I know you like this quite a lot."

God, she did. A low moan slipped from her lips. But how—Scarlett's eyes went wide—how did this happen? Her mind spun like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. The children were upstairs—Luke and Ashley were locked in the parlor—there was no one to interrupt them—this is what she wanted, wasn't it?

Suddenly he was lifting her, and then her back brushed the seat of the long sofa. He stood beside her as he slipped off his coat and unbuttoned his waistcoat, dropping them both to the floor. Within an instant, he'd unwound his cravat and unbuttoned his stiff white shirt. She peered up at him, taking in the faded scar which spread across his muscled chest and scored his abdomen. God's Nightgown. He was so very, very male. To her own embarrassment, moist heat began to collect between her thighs. What was she doing? But he was her husband, wasn't he? He moved from the light, and she felt him part her knees. The cushion beneath her gave and she felt him move between her legs. And she did not want him to stop. Her eyes snapped open. She could let herself have this. Reclaim her one would know how she'd done it…unless Luke was eavesdropping at the parlor door's keyhole.

And in that moment, her decision was made. She raised a hand and ran it through his thick hair, holding him to her as she responded to his passionate kiss while she stroked his muscled chest.

"Mmm," he moaned, stealing one last kiss. He leaned back slightly and ran his fingertips over her breasts, making her arch into his touch. He moved lower and eased his hands over her belly, then beneath the rumpled skirts about her hips. He pushed up her silk chemise and petticoat. Scarlett closed her eyes. Great balls of fire, this is madness. But she wasn't going to stop him… not on her life.

. . . .

Rhett Butler meandered around for the door in the darkness, his hands fumbling to find a light in the passageway. Where was the damned door? Why had he stayed? What had he done? And then he saw him: an extraordinarily tall man with gleaming black hair…and God above, was he mistaken, or did he look like him? It was eerie how much it looked like him, only a younger, thinner version…

His heart was pounding. Luke? Of course it couldn't be, not in Scarlett's house…but he had to get closer. The man was quicker than him, and disappeared behind a doorway that Rhett couldn't quite locate. How drunk was he?

He pushed forward, ramming his knee directly into a heavy piece of furniture before finally sighing as he lifted the lamp he had finally located and raised it to the mirror above the hall table to illuminate his face.

Just look at me—a drunken, blithering old man.

Then something about his blinking image pinched at him, and made him draw closer. His deep-set inky eyes were cold and black in the dim reflection, and at once thoughts of his late father sprang unnervingly into his mind. He squeezed them shut, and drew in a deep breath, shaking off, as best he could, the image and the memories that trailed behind.

When he opened them again, Rhett shoved his fingers through his wavy ebony hair, smoothing it into place. Turning away from the mirror, he deposited the candlestick to the cherry tabletop and set about attempting to retie the knot of his cravat…but where was that? Surely not…

Surely that had not…He had to get out of there, and fast.

. . . .

"Ye have a lot of relatives, Luke. Not to mention two bloody houses. You dinna mention that," came a low male voice from several feet up the passage.

Luke yanked his head around and squinted. Against the golden light breaking through the drawing room doors, he saw the familiar silhouette of the huskily built Scotsman.

"Were ye not gonna tell me?" the man said.

"Tommy." Luke turned fully, if a bit unsteadily, to face his old friend. "Sod me. Where have you been all night? Thought you'd changed your mind about coming and decided to take a turn with that woman of yours instead."

"Ah, well, no chance of that. Dinna have any more money." Tommy tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear, glad that Luke seemed to have forgiven his earlier mistake.

Luke shook his head. "No doubt you'll hold out for another skirt twice as...talented."

"No such luck in me future," Tommy sighed. "What about you? Did you get our money then?"

"Not yet. Close though. I did my dear Auntie a favor this night. Perhaps she'll repay me in kind."

"Aye, but knowing you as I do, she'll be payin' you not in money, laddie. And then where'll we be but not a penny richer, eh?"

Luke smirked. "Trust me, Tommy. I have a plan. It happens to be a damned good one, too."

"I'm sure 'tis."

"It is though. It might require us remaining for a week or two."

Tommy shrugged. "Fine by me." He then squeezed Luke's shoulder, then, like a hound catching a scent, he sniffed the air between them. "So brandy is your choice tonight, eh? Any good? I do hope it is because I fear you might have a slight lead this eve. Can't have that, now can we?"

"More than a lead. My horse is lengths ahead, me laddie."

"Heard from the lads at the pub that your Aunt, what's her name, Scarlett? Aye. Heard that she's a real ball buster, an ice queen. Even a wee bit of a drinker, herself."

"Perhaps," Luke said nonchalantly. "Now get out of here before anyone sees you. I'm going to test my acting abilities."

"Tryin' for the stage, are we?"

"Nope. Merely to convince a lady of my abilities."

"Shouldna' be that hard for you. You've quite a bit of practice as of late."

"Have I?" Luke held his words to a low whisper.

Tommy's eyebrows lifted until they nearly grazed the golden lock of hair dangling over his forehead. "You dinna mean to make it seem that you…?"

"It will work. I promise."

Tommy laughed. "Wonder what your Da'll say, should he hear?"

Luke smirked. "How you do go on. He'll never know. No one will, because I'm going to buy her silence."

"Bloody hell!"

"No, no, there is more." Luke raised a hand before the other man could interrupt again. "I even have a good deed or two planned in all this. See, my father's left her for all intensive purposes…but I'm going to make her fall desperately in love with someone else. It's perfect, see? She'll forget all about the bastard and live, as they say, happily ever after."

"So, you're gonna marry her yourself?"

"Now Tommy, agreeing to change my manner is one matter—but marriage? Ha!"

Luke forced a laugh. "What a thought…as if anyone could convince me to become shackled willingly." He raised his eyebrows, and waited for Tommy do the same.

But he didn't.

Instead Tommy stared back at Laird as though he...as though he...disagreed?

But Tommy was actually smiling.

Hell's bells, it seemed that he did not agree.

"Twill never work. Or she'll just fall in love with ye and ye'll have to fight your own Da and shoot him in order to marry her yourself."

"Do you mock me, sir? I assure you, I can be quite persuasive when I am passionate about something."

"Tis true enough, except I happen to know you aren't invested in this cause. Not in the least."

"Care to bet on it?" Luke lifted his left eyebrow.

"Do yourself a good deed, save the hard earned money you think you're gonna earn. 'Cause this would be one wager I would certainly win."

"Really? Are you so sure?" Luke folded his arms across his chest, looking almost perturbed.

"Haven't a single doubt. For while I know you enjoy nothing so much as a challenge with such long odds, think about what your winning would mean. Were you to marry, your shares of respectability would nae doubt increase…"

"But my days of freedom would be at an end. I ask you, who else could match your stamina in chasing skirts, drinking or playing cards?"

"Chasing skirts, eh?" Tommy scratched his temple in feigned contemplation. "Here was I thinking you were on your way to becoming respectable..."

"Sure. Respectable. In more relaxed circles."

"So that is what you plan on doing to your Da's wife—redeeming yourself?" Tommy smirked. "She is still married you know. He's like to shoot ye, nae the other way around."

"Yes, but I've heard he's a poor shot." Luke grinned at his own joke, clever in his eyes.

The click of a man's shoes on the marble floor drew the curtain on any further comment on the subject.

"He's leaving. That'll be my cue…Out the window you go, Tommy. And keep well hidden, won't you?"

Tommy smiled. "Aye. Good luck, mate."

Luke sighed resignedly in mock distress. "I fear there is no escape for me…or for her…"The Scotsman glanced momentarily back at Luke. "Be careful, won't ye?"

Luke smiled at his friend. "You owe me one, you do realize this?" he whispered.

"I do, and I truly appreciate your sacrifice." Then, with a chuckle, he nudged Luke mercilessly forward and slipped out the window into the darkness.

Now for him to convince "Aunt" Scarlett that their night of passion was better than the real thing…