Rosemary sat on Scarlett's bed trying to be patient as her sister in law brushed out her long ebony hair that was nearly the same shade of crow black as Rhett's.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather me read to you?" asked Rosemary hopefully for the twentieth time that afternoon.
"No thank you," replied Scarlett sweetly as she stopped brushing for a minute to position a few stray locks of Rosemary's rebellious hair.
"Perhaps you'd rather I…" Rosemary started.
"It's either this or you could try on dresses again," threatened Scarlett, her voice firm.
Rosemary tried to turn her head so she could glare at Scarlett but Scarlett had already started brushing out Rosemary's hair again making it impossible for Rosemary to move her head without causing herself a moment of hair being ripped from her scalp. "You know when mother asked if I'd entertain you this afternoon I hardly think this is what she meant."
"I am entertained so you are carrying out her instructions to the letter, and don't think I don't appreciate it." Scarlett smiled to herself as she continued to untangle Rosemary's hair. It wasn't the most exciting afternoon pursuit, but at least she was learning a great deal about Rhett and his family and friends.
"This can't be OW!" Scarlett's brush had become ensnared in a tangled knot of hair and without thinking, Scarlett had jerked it out. "This isn't fun."
"So say you. You know Rosemary, you would be an absolutely breath taking young woman if you'd just take a little more care with your appearance."
Rosemary countered quickly "I resent that. Aren't my dresses always neat and pressed." She held up her hands to display her nails. "My nails are clean."
"And bitten to the quick," commented Scarlett. She caught Rosemary's hand in her own. "And you've all but torn off every one of your cuticles."
"My hands aren't important."
Scarlett was horrified; one of the few lessons so carefully imparted by Ellen that had stayed with her through the years was that the condition of a lady's hands revealed a great deal about the character of the woman belonging to them. After all, it had been her hands that had given away her circumstances to Rhett at the Yankee jail in Atlanta. "You can always tell a lady by her hands."
"I've heard that said," commented Rhett causally from her doorway.
Rosemary sprang from the bed eagerly. "Thank goodness you're home."
Rhett looked at the opened trunks and the heaps of clothing littering the room. Sheer chemise and pantalets were tossed atop ball gowns that were worth a small fortune. Other garments were heaped in haphazard piles at the foot of Scarlett's bed A mink cape was tossed carelessly on the top of a trunk and just under it, Rhett could see a length of claret colored silk with small seed pearls embroidered in a sweeping French curve pattern. Upon returning his attention to his sister, Rhett was just able to cover his surprise at the dress his sister was currently wearing.
Rosemary was wearing one of Scarlett's most ostentatious gowns, a deep v-necked emerald green watered silk that revealed a heavy amount of décolleté. He had banned it on site when Scarlett had first arrived in Charleston. Partially because it would have been inappropriate according to Charleston's rigid moral standards and mostly because the sight of Scarlett in that gown would have moved a Saint to consider committing sins of the flesh. Rhett had stamped out temptation at it's root by naming the dress as one of the ones he did not want to see on her during her visit to his mother's house. Now he wanted to see her in it, or attired in significantly less.
Rhett continued to lean in the doorway regarding his sister with an amused up tilt of his lips, it wasn't a smile and it wasn't a sneer. It was only a look that spoke of his amusement to see his normally strong willed sister being so effortlessly manipulated by his ironed willed wife. "Why Rosemary, you look lovely, emerald green though? I wouldn't have seen that as a color you'd choose for a ball gown."
Rosemary shot a look of indignation at Scarlett. "She insisted."
Rhett laughed before adding understandingly, "I've no doubt. How did you get yourself into that dress," he directed his attention toward Scarlett, "You haven't been over exerting yourself, have you?" he asked sternly.
Scarlett bestowed a particularly dazzling smile on him, "Certainly not, Carlen's niece, Independence, arrived this morning."
"Where is she now?" asked Rhett, coming into the room and clearing off one of the clothing draped chairs in front of the French doors leading to the piazza.
"Hiding," quipped Rosemary, "she knew Scarlett would turn the brush on her next."
"Fie Rosemary Butler, she's gone for some tea and soup for," Scarlett brought her hand to her forehead dramatically, "the invalid."
"How did Scarlett convince you to submit Rosemary? Threats, blackmail, tears?"
Rosemary looked at her sister in law and burst out laughing. Scarlett tried to wear an expression of wounded dignity, but failed after a moment. She joined Rosemary in laughing. Rhett watched as his sister and the woman who was still his wife tried to catch their breaths between bouts of laughter.
Rosemary sat back down on the bed. "This afternoon after lunch. Mother asked if I would keep Scarlett company for a few hours while she ran her errands. Wanting to help, I naturally agreed. When I came upstairs I brought Scarlett a book from the library, just as she asked last night. May I point that out to you, Miss Scarlett. I did not ambush you with a book, you asked me for one."
"Lies, if I asked you for a book it must have been because I was out of my mind with fever."
Rosemary's face changed for a barely discernible second before she continued. "Be that as it may, I found a book of poetry but as soon as I came into this room she asked me to come and sit by her. Then she attacked me with the hairbrush."
"Why you liar," said Scarlett her voice heavy with mock indignation. "I didn't attack you, I only pointed out that you'd look much more your age with your hair down."
"You told me I looked as though I'm in my forties," exclaimed Rosemary.
"Well, with that dowdy top knot, you do," replied Scarlett, smug in the knowledge of how attractive she was even while convalescing. Her own hair was done in an upsweep with a few loose waves framing her face. Her linen nightgown with trimmed with thin barley colored ribbon woven through the eyelet holes of Savannah convent made tatted lace. Even though she was pale and her cheeks were flushed because of the fever, Scarlett was absolutely breath taking.
Rosemary stuck her tongue out at Scarlett.
"Now you look like as though you are four," replied Scarlett pertly.
"Girls, girls," chided Rhett, sounding like an overwrought schoolmaster.
"Sorry Mr. Butler," chimed both girls in unison before they began to giggle again.
"So, let me see if I can untangle this. Rosemary, you agreed to sit with Scarlett because you thought you'd be reading poetry but Scarlett baited you into an involved round of dress-up."
The girls exchanged looks and smiled genially at each other.
"When you put it that way, you lose a great deal of the humor involved," said Rosemary.
Rhett smiled until his eye fell on the mantle clock. "Rosemary, why don't you run and get changed. Ross and Emily are coming for dinner tonight and it's already after three now. "
"Fine. Scarlett you will remember our bargain, tonight at least three poems."
"Fine, a bargains a bargain, but tomorrow remember what I said about your eyebrows."
"What you said about my eyebrows will haunt me to the end of my days. Get some rest," impulsively Rosemary leaned down and brushed a quick peck on Scarlett's cheek.
Rhett looked at Scarlett, his expression indescrutiable. "What in the world did I just walk in on?"
"I've decided to cultivate your sister. She could be a very pretty girl if she'd only change her hair. Also she needs some pretty frocks in light colors, she wears entirely too much somber brown and dowdy maroon."
"That's the project you've chose to pass the time, playing Pygmalion."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that," Scarlett reclined against the pillows.
Rhett smirked slightly; he nearly made a comment about her lack of knowledge in relation to classic literature but instead offered her the brown paper wrapped magazines.
She smiled "Rhett, how very thoughtful of you, thank you." She placed the magazines beneath her pillow. "That's for safe keeping, your sister will declare them contraband and substitute Dickens or Victor Hugo for Harper's and Godley's."
He suddenly became aloof, "I actually bought you another gift, a sort of get well present, but perhaps your stomach is too unsettled for them."
Her eyes lit up "Oh Rhett, please may I have my present?"
"You are such a child when it comes to presents, very well, pick a hand."
"The left," she said eagerly.
"No."
She pouted playfully. "Fine," she said, before crossing her arms over her chest.
"Would you care for a second guess?"
"There's only one other hand it could be in," she pointed out.
"Then your odds for choosing correctly are astronomical."
"The right hand then," she said trying to suppress a smile.
He brought a bow bedecked candy box out from behind his back. "For you."
She looked at the label and then up at him. "Bonbons. Rhett, that was very sweet." She laughed at the word sweet in relation to bonbons. "I've always loved this particular kind."
"Do you remember how I'd bring them for you during the war?" he asked nostalgically.
"How could I forget, you use to make up the most far fetched tales of the peril you faced to bring me a single box."
"Tales, I'll have you know every word was true."
"Mmm," she made a noise of disbelief but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, she carefully unwrapped the box and put aside it's top. She tilted the box and offered him the first piece.
"You'll spoil my dinner."
"Don't be silly, take one."
He withdrew one of the luscious dark hued pieces of chocolate. After taking a small nibble, he frowned. "They ought to have a little map to warn you of the potential for disaster," he commented off handedly.
"In life or in chocolates."
"Both," he said firmly, "But for an example, this piece was one I suspected to be a walnut or a pecan center, instead it's brandied cherry which is my least favorite of the lot."
"Ironically if you recall, that is my favorite and there is generally only one in the entire box."
"Would you like it," he offered with a small twist of the lips in what was a cross between a smirk and a smile.
"You've taken a bite out of it," she pointed out with primly pursed lips.
"That's true, however I'm afraid it's this piece from which I've taken a very small bite or you'll have to wait till tomorrow for another chance at a brandied cherry."
"You make a very valid argument," she reached out her hand for the chocolate but he held it just out of her reach.
"The filling is already started to ooze out, if you get it all over the bedclothes my mother will have something to say about it. Open your mouth."
She gave him a wry, suspicious smile, "I have a handkerchief all my very own, surely you believe me capable of eating something as simple as a piece of chocolate without making a huge mess?"
He wanted to feed her from his hand, did he?
She could remember during their honeymoon in New Orleans when one morning he'd ordered a huge bowl of sybil cream and a large bowl of fruit, most of which had been out of season. He had dipped piece after piece in the cream and teased her mercilessly before popping each piece in his mouth. She had laughed for a change instead of being angry at being teased. Everything in their marriage was so different from her two previous marriages that she just wanted to enjoy this time.
Finally he had leaned close to her, his thumb and pointer finger holding a strawberry, he lowered the morsel of fruit to her lips and then just as she was about to bite down, he lifted it a little higher. She met his teasing smile with a shy one of her own. She leaned closer and then he lowered the strawberry to her lips, allowing her to have it.
After she swallowed, she leaned back against the pillows propped up behind her back. "Why must you always tease me so?" she asked in a lazy voice.
"I don't know what you mean, if there's anything you want you only have to ask," he replied off-handedly.
"Oh really?" she countered, "Anything?"
His face became guarded losing its teasing expression. His dark eyes lost the playful shine that had just been in them moments before. He placed the bowl of fruit on the night table and began to get out of bed. "Yes, anything, did you see a piece of jewelry you liked?" he asked his voice cool.
She was oblivious to the signs of his changing temper. "Not especially, you've already bought me more than I could wear in a month, even if I wore a different piece everyday."
His mood changed and became slightly lightener just as a cloud moving away from the sun will brighten a landscape. "What is it that you want?"
She sat up and lifted her hair away from her neck. "My neck and shoulders are so stiff, I suppose I must have fallen asleep in an awkward position last night, it would be heavenly if you'd rub them for me."
He smiled now, pleased that she wanted his touch instead of something he could purchase for her.
"You'll have to move forward and turn slightly."
After she complied, he lowered his hands to her shoulders and slowly squeezed his fingers searching for knotted muscles. She let out a low moan and he stopped. "Am I hurting you?" he asked.
"Quite the opposite," she replied softly.
He resumed massaging her shoulders and the slender column of her neck. He drifted lower to her shoulder blades. "I could do a better job if you'd only take off your negligee."
She blushed with embarrassment; Rhett's unabated continued interest in her body still was a cause of continued humiliation for her. He wanted to touch her all over her body. That wasn't where his interest ceased, there were other acts that while they felt wonderful she was sure they were acts that would cause her mother to roll in her grave at the thought of them being performed on her oldest daughter.
He turned her to face him; she ended up kneeling on the bed as he sat cross-legged. "Have I hurt you at all?'
"No, I told you if felt nice," she replied in confusion thinking he was referring to his massaging her shoulders.
"I mean during the times we've been intimate," he clarified.
She blushed furthering causing him to smile. 'Unflappable normally, Scarlett would shoulder her way into a crowd of builders and run her business, ignoring words that would have shaken another woman and indeed some men. But the thought of him touching her and causing a response from her body moved her to blush a color the same rosy red hue as her name, he thought.
"No, it hasn't hurt," she ventured reluctantly after giving thought to the activities that had occupied the last several nights.
"Have you enjoyed it?"
"Rhett, what a question?" she cried.
"I'm waiting for an answer, the things that I've done to you, don't they give you pleasure?"
She didn't want to answer but she knew the quickest way to terminate the conversation would be to tell the truth.
"Yes," she said in a voice more like a whisper than a declaration.
He reached out and cupped her face in his hands. "You can't imagine how many nights I would lie awake picturing what it would be like to make love to you, how you would feel and smell and taste. Would your skin really be as soft as I imagined it to be under your numerous layers of clothes?" There was a teasing note in his tone, and she dismissed his words as just talk. Talk meant to tease and disconcert her.
"Please, I don't want to discus this, it isn't fitting," she said interrupting him.
"Why isn't it fitting, is it wrong to confess that making love to you in reality is far more exhilarating than I could have dreamed? Is it wrong to tell you that your hair is like rough silk and I could spend days running my hands through it?"
"Rhett…"
He wouldn't let her interrupt; he placed his pinkies over her lips to stop the words bubbling up to her lips. "Hush, let me finish, I have wanted you for so long that I thought I would never have you, I refuse to be ashamed of anything that occurs between us physically. I won't pretend that being with you is a marital chore even though that is what we both learned at our parent's knee. Making love to you is not an obligation, it's a pleasure that transcends all I thought it would be."
Gently, he used his hands already cradling her face to push her head back, unsure of his intentions she complied leaving the front of her throat exposed. He came forward and began to rain kisses on it. She tried to bring her head up but he held it firmly keeping her throat exposed. He could feel her pulse just above her collarbone. It was rapid, fluttering like a thrush caught in a trap.
His released her head and when she tilted her head forward, he met her eye to eye. "If you ever want me to stop, tell me and I will."
Wordlessly, she nodded. Shyly she leaned forward and kissed him. He waited to see how far she would go and sensing the waiting in him she wrapped her arms around his neck. Gently he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply until they were both breathless.