Thanks for all your support and kind words; it's lovely to be back. As most of you probably guessed, Scarlett's plan is about to go disastrously awry. These two just don't know a good thing when they've got it! Don't worry though, if this chapter's about the fighting then the next will definitely be all about the making up. Hope you enjoy.

Scarlett's hand shook slightly as she raised the brandy to her lips, her ears pricked to detect any movement from out in the corridor. It was still fairly early in the evening and the servants had yet to retire for the night, making the chances of one of them stumbling in on her impromptu tipple a very real possibility.

Despite the stigma attached to being caught drinking alone, Scarlett was too on edge to let this opportunity to steady her nerves pass her by. Already she had fidgeted her way through supper, her hands picking at imaginary stains in her skirt as she tried unsuccessfully to keep up with the conversation.

Rhett, irritatingly observant as ever, had even picked her up on it halfway through the dessert course, being bad mannered enough to suggest that, as she was incapable of sitting still in her seat, she should perhaps forgo a second helping of the sweet apple trifle they were enjoying as added sugar was unlikely to help her already jittery countenance.

She had tried to hold herself in check after that, frowning over at her husband and deliberately asking for such a large second portion that she had barely been able to finish it. Even now though, her stays cutting a little uncomfortably into her sides, she could not bring herself to regret the action. After all, when it came to besting Rhett, there was little that she was unwilling to endure.

Swallowing thickly, she shivered as a warm, familiar burn flooded her throat, her muscles relaxing as the alcohol helped to strengthen her wavering resolve.

She had been so determined all day, focussing only on the thought of reclaiming the heat that had engulfed her the previous night, that she had woefully underestimated how much courage it would take to be able to stand in front of Rhett and force the issue.

It had been bad enough when she'd had to ask him for money in the past, for he had an annoying habit of puffing up like a barnyard rooster whenever he felt that she needed him for something, strutting and posturing around the place until she dearly wanted to cut him back down to size.

But, now, it was unspeakably worse. For what she wanted from him tonight wasn't simply funds for a sawmill or an extra dress for her wardrobe, no, this time it was something far more personal that she was after.

A sudden creak caught her attention and swiftly she downed the rest of the drink, fumbling in her haste to place the empty glass back on the tray beside the decanter. The sound of light footfalls reached her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest, calming only when they passed by the door to the parlour and carried on towards Rhett's study.

Some part of her felt oddly disappointed when she realised her husband planned to retire there for the rest of the evening. It was silly as she should have been used to such behaviour by now. In the weeks before his trip to New Orleans he had always shut himself away after tucking the children into bed, preferring to spend his evenings in the company of stuffy old books and boring bank papers than in the presence of his wife.

She hadn't consciously been hoping that tonight would be different, but the presence of a newly-formed heavy weight in her stomach spoke volumes. Silently, she cursed herself for not having the foresight to try and intercept him in the corridor. Having to enter his study when she had never before sought him out there would be bound to raise Rhett's suspicions right from the start and make her task that bit harder.

Angrily, she wondered why he always had to make everything so much trickier for her. She was dreading their conversation enough as it was without him doing his utmost to make it worse.

Suppressing the more rational part of her mind that tried to remind her that Rhett knew nothing of her plans and was therefore unlikely to be acting deliberately, she continued to silently rage at him, taking refuge in her anger and the way it helped mask her more pressing fears.

Buoyed up by her tantrum, Scarlett squared her shoulders and readied herself for their encounter. As much as she would have liked to delay the moment, to indulge in another glass of brandy while going over her plan one more time, she knew she could not. Any longer and she would lose her nerve entirely. Already, the thought of abandoning the idea altogether and simply retreating upstairs to bed was beginning to encroach upon her mind and, were she to give in to the temptation, she knew she would never try anything like this again.

No, she was going to do it and she was going to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlett pushed all her concerns from her head and walked out of the room towards her husband's study.

Not wanting to back down, she knocked on the door the second she reached it, her heart pounding as she heard him call out for her to come in.

Opening the door, she had meant to stride confidently over to him and begin the conversation, not wanting to give him a chance to question her presence or pick up on her anxiety. Something about the scene before her made her stop in her tracks though and silently she stood on the threshold and stared.

The servant's had lit a fire and it crackled warmly in the hearth, cloaking the room in a beautiful, orange glow. The light flickered lovingly over the deep mahogany furniture, its simple, classical elegance so at odds with the rest of the house's décor, and over the wealth of papers laid out on the large, imposing desk.

An air of calm authority emanated out from where Rhett sat pouring over the papers, something about his businessman-like demeanour appealing greatly to her own hardworking mind. He kept his affairs so secret that rarely had she had the opportunity to see him like this, powerful and arresting in his high-backed chair, almost like a king upon his throne.

He had removed his jacket and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows while he worked, the sight of his strong, muscled forearms holding Scarlett's attention for longer than was probably wise.

'Scarlett?'

Snapping her head up to look at him, the twinkle in Rhett's eyes told her that this was not the first time that he had tried calling her name.

'Hmm?'

'I asked if you were well.'

'I'm fine, thank you.'

'Was there another reason for your looking in on me then? Not that I don't treasure your company, my dear, but it is not often that you feel the inclination to wander in to my study unannounced.'

Doing her best to gather her senses and ignore his taunting tone, Scarlett rallied. 'There was something I wanted to discuss with you.'

'Something so urgent that it could not wait until we have retired for the night?'

'I don't know if I'll still be awake by the time you finally decide to come up.' She sniped. 'Often you are down here so late that I'm surprised you bother to come to bed at all.'

If some of the teasing light fled from Rhett's face at her words then Scarlett was glad. It felt good to knock his infernal confidence for once and take charge of their exchange.

'Well, by all means, my dear, take a seat.' He said, waiting until she had sat herself down in the chair across the desk from his before leaning back and clasping his hands together as if she were a prospective business partner come to pitch him some new idea. 'What is it that you are so eager to discuss with me?'

Playing for time, Scarlett cleared her throat. She had spent a good part of the morning thinking up a way of guiding them back to the events of the previous night without making her intentions obvious. At first she had considered the traditional tactics she had used with such great effect during her days as a belle, had thought to dress up in her finest clothes and flatter Rhett with simpering looks and admiring words in order to get what she wanted.

While such ploys had never failed to work on the boys of Clayton County however, Rhett had always shown himself adverse to such measures, often openly declaring his dislike of being so artlessly manipulated in this way.

That in mind, she had abandoned a half-formed plan to come down to dinner dressed in the new green silk dress he had brought her back from New Orleans. In truth, the dress was far too fine to wear for a simple family mealtime anyway and she would have hated to risk spilling something on it before having had the chance to show it off to all her friends and neighbours.

Instead, she had tried to think of a way to stroke his vanity without appearing to do so. Men were all alike and, no matter how different Rhett may profess himself to be, she was in no doubt that underneath it all he desired the same thing that the rest of them did: to think themselves the masculine saviours of the pretty, clueless women in their lives.

It was practically the first trick a girl learned when she grew old enough to start courting. Pulled aside by her mother, she was taught to act silly and helpless and to make men feel as though they were stronger and cleverer and in everyway better than she herself could ever hope to be. Flattered so, men could not help but to fall in love with the girl that made them feel every bit as masculine as they had always envisioned themselves to be.

Rhett may not have liked for her to act brainless or flighty, but he had proven in the past that he still enjoyed being made to feel as though she relied upon him and it was this weakness that she planned to exploit for her own ends now.

'I was thinking that now the house is finally finished it would be nice if we held a party to celebrate our new home.'

'Go on.' He said, his dark eyes flickering with interest as he no doubt tried to understand what it was she was up to.

'Well, I just wanted to see what you thought of the idea. I was thinking we could arrange it in the style of a crush-'

'A crush?' He queried, eyebrows raised.

'Yes,' Scarlett said, warming to her theme. 'It's this new sort of party that's becoming ever so fashionable. Bridget Flaherty went to one last month and said it was the most tasteful thing she had ever seen.'

'I suspect Mrs. Flaherty and I have conflicting opinions on what constitutes good taste, my pet, but no matter.'

Frowning at his jibe, Scarlett continued. 'Yes, well, that's what I was wanting to talk to you about. You see, I want to make sure the party is a success, in fact I want it to be the grandest social event that Atlanta has ever seen and you're ever so good at that sort of thing Rhett that I was thinking if we worked together-'

'Worked together?' He asked, sounding genuinely surprised by her suggestion.

'Yes. It'll be the first time that we'll be hosting an event as a married couple and I want to make sure it's perfect.'

'And you think us working together will achieve that, do you?'

'Why wouldn't it?' Scarlett asked, offended by his insinuation.

'We've never managed it before now.' He said, his eyes sombre.

Confused, Scarlett countered. 'Why, of course we have! You gave me the money to buy my sawmill and you always help me when I have a business problem. Why, only a fortnight ago you saved me money by suggesting I should use your old friend Wilson as my main supplier.'

'Ah, yes.' He murmured, his lips thinning. 'How remiss of me to forget. When it comes to your businesses we are indeed a perfect team. It's just a shame our vocational harmony does not seem to be able to extend itself to the domestic sphere, isn't it, darling?'

Unable to make sense of his words, Scarlett chose instead to ignore them. 'So will you help me plan our crush, Rhett? It would mean ever so much to me if you did.'

'If that is what you so desire, Mrs. Butler.'

Though his easy assent surprised her, Scarlett could not help but feel as though the situation was quickly slipping out of her control. Rhett did not seem as flattered by her suggestion as she had expected him to and she decided that if their talk was to end the way she had been hoping it would, then she would have to raise her game significantly.

'I thought, as long as the weather holds, it would be nice to hold it both inside and out. It might be fun to spilt it so that I decorate one part and you the other. What do you think?'

'What do I think?' Rhett mused, a sharpness of focus entering his demeanour as he lent forward to brace his hands upon the desk. 'I think that you didn't really come in here to discuss your party, my pet, that's what I think.'

Flustered by he clear challenge in his eyes, Scarlett felt her cheeks flush as she struggled to retain her composure. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Rhett.'

'Oh, but I think that you do.' Rhett smiled darkly. 'Really Scarlett, did you expect me to believe that you would hand over control of your precious crush to me? I might be ever so good at that sort of thing as you so charmingly put it, but when has a lack of experience ever stopped you before? This monstrosity of a house is testament to the fact that you would rather plunge ahead with your own misguided notions than listen to my thoughts on the matter. So, no, I do not think you came in here to ask my opinion. What I think is that you conjured up this little farce in the hope of prying something out of me. The only question now being, what exactly is it that you are after?'

'How dare you call my house a monstrosity!' Scarlett cried, enraged that he would dare to insult it knowing all the work she had put in to make it so grand. For months she had spent every hour of the day chasing up the builders, sourcing the furniture and arguing with the carpenters who seemed to think they knew what she wanted better than she herself did. It had been an exhausting time in which she had even had to neglect her store and mills in order to see it completed on schedule, a sacrifice which had pained her greatly and which seemed to mean nothing at all to Rhett if he could sit there and so calmly slight her efforts.

Her flimsy plan falling apart around her, Scarlett now thought only to put as much distance between herself and her unfeeling cad of a husband as she could, rising up from her chair with a start and hurrying back towards the door.

She had almost reached it when she felt him lay a restraining hand upon her arm. Trying to yank herself out of his grip, Scarlett let out a huff of annoyance as she was pulled around to face him.

'Not so fast, my pet. Before you retire, I would be interested to know exactly what your true intentions were in coming here this evening.'

'It doesn't matter.' Scarlett spat angrily, still twisting in an attempt to escape his hold.

A swift jerk to the right saw her almost manage to slip out of his grip and, in a move to restrain her, Rhett marched her backwards until she hit the wall beside the open doorway.

'It does to me.' He said, his dark eyes boring into her own as if trying to read her mind. 'What was it, Scarlett? Was it my precious money you were wanting? Hmm? Did you think that if you allowed me to help plan your little party I'd be more willing to lay my bank account at your mercy?'

'No!' She cried, struggling harder when his hands came up to roughly encircle her shoulders. 'Let me go, you skunk!'

Seeing her temper flare, Rhett only laughed mirthlessly. 'Not until you tell me why, Scarlett. Is it really so important to you to flaunt your new found wealth in your neighbours' faces? It is not enough that I already provide you with every material comfort your mercenary little heart could possibly desire, must they all be sick with envy too before you are satisfied?'

'I don't want your money!' Scarlett yelled, red-faced and frustrated. This evening could hardly have gone worse if she had deliberately been trying to sabotage it. The gentle, reverent man she had lain with last night seemed like a dream to her now, her husband transformed instead into his bitter, angry beast who shouted too loud and held her too tight and was consumed by an inner rage she couldn't even begin to comprehend.

'No? Well, there is a first time for everything, I suppose. Perhaps then it wasn't a cheque you were trying to pry out of me. If you did indeed want my help with the decorations then there must be someone you are eager to impress with the splendour of your crush.' He mocked, twisting the last word until it positively dripped with disdain. 'I hardly need to ask who that particular person is, do I, my dear?'

Scarlett looked up at him blankly and saw his lips stretch painfully thin.

'Ashley, my pet. Ashley. He is after all the only man you try so pathetically hard to appear lady-like in front of. If I was you though I wouldn't exert myself so, not to sound cruel, darling, but your little act isn't fooling anyone, not even a man as dim witted as the esteemed Mr. Wilkes.'

On hearing his words, Scarlett felt a flash of pure anger, white-hot and blistering, scour through her entire body. How dare he suggest that she was incapable of being a lady? Why, just this morning he had given her a gift meant to reassure her that he thought the exact opposite and yet here he was, mere hours later, ripping that gesture to shreds.

How she wished she held the horseshoe in her hands right now, for she would take great satisfaction in beating the man with it until he bled. She did not understand how someone could be so loving one moment and so horribly, painfully hateful the next. It was like having to share you life with two entirely different men, never knowing when one would shift seamlessly back into the other.

It was exhausting and Scarlett was too tired to deal with it. All day she had been fizzing with nervous energy only to see her plans come to nothing, this Rhett was not the one who had made love to her last night and, after what he had just said, she would not want him to touch her again now anyway.

The fire leaving her body, she looked up at him with defeated, tired eyes and whispered. 'Let me go.'

Something about the coldness of her words affected Rhett in a way her temper had not and instantly he released her, a flash of something which looked like remorse flashing across his tanned face.

Good. Scarlett thought wearily. He should feel bad for what he said to me.

'I'm going to go to bed.' She said, turning away from him towards the door.

She had almost reached it when she heard him clear his throat. 'Scarlett, I-'

'Goodnight, Rhett.' She said firmly, not wanting to hear anymore.

Silently, she crossed the threshold and headed towards the stairs, her heart yearning for something that it could not name and her body demanding something that it could not have.