Hello! Thank you all for your never-ending support!
This is where the story gets quite mature. I wasn't laughing when I told you to be prepared to scream.
...
Chapter 26
First was taken off the dress, then the corset and the bustle. The reticule fell miserably to a side, heavier than it was supposed to be. Scarlett kicked them out of the way, relieving him of his jacket, lips not leaving lips, desire meeting desire.
Oh, that dress, Rhett thought. He had been driven mad by it, the image nagging him of the girl he had wanted to reach for so long, replaced with the woman he could not live without. At first, his mind would not believe it, thinking it was a trick. It was almost the same dress as when she had declared her love for the wooden-headed Ashley Wilkes, and he had a hard time not to push her back to her room and have her all for himself so that she might not be tempted elsewhere. 'Rewrite history'… He had never believed in that, but if it amused her and it involved her ending up with him, he was prepared to do just that.
Yet, she had sung for him, declared publicly she was his, so much that it had felt like torture to let her go and flirt in that automatic way of hers with Richard. The only pleasure he found was that she seemed to want to get away from him, though, in his mind, he thought she was whispering words that did not go with that attitude, and that fed on his fear.
No, he would not think about it. He had seen how genuine she was with him. He was the one she had chosen, and damn, he'd choose her again and again. He had been waiting for so long for her…
In the dimmed light of the lamps, it was almost hard to see what they were doing. Yet, Rhett could see her eyes, the green light leading him home, where he belonged.
She was now in her shift, shaking violently with the need of him. The linen was light, barely concealing the hint of her nipples pointing toward him, the tantalizing curves of her hips. She opened her arms to him and he returned the embrace. His lips were hot and rough on her soft ones, yet it was all she wanted, all he wanted.
She put her legs around him, and he sat sideways with her at a side of the bed, still immersed in a world of their own. Her hands were at each side of his face, urging him to continue. As if it was needed.
She tasted of Champagne and lust, a dangerous mix he was drawn to, adding his own in the process.
He tasted of cigars and love, and she did not want to let that go.
With frustration, she tried to take his necktie off, yet the knot was unlike the ones she had known, at the time when she could be asked by her father to make it again when he was too disheveled after riding his horse. Her fingers fidgeted around it, and it seemed she made it worse. With dancing eyes, he stopped his caresses and got out of his pocket a Swiss knife. He stopped before cutting it, then put it in her hands carefully, his fingers drawing soft circles on the back of it. She froze. His eyes, full of desire and sudden vulnerability, did not leave her, and she realized the amount of trust he was demonstrating to her. Her hands trembled, yet she held it still, her heart pounding dangerously. The blade ran through the fabric, barely touching the skin underneath, and she shivered at the sound of the silk being torn apart.
She threw the knife away and kissed him, her fingers gripping at his hair desperately. With surrender, he pressed her against him.
She did not want that kind of power over him. She just wanted to love him.
Her lips joined his in a dance only they knew, each fighting for a dominance that yet did not have any winner. When came the time to take a breath, they stared at each other after they got rid of his shirt, almost ripping it, their mouths opened as if they could not bear to be parted again, and just wanted to dive in again.
She put his hand over her heart, her eyes burning and voice shaking with love.
"I am yours. Body, mind, heart, soul… It's all yours…"
She felt him tremble, all his walls crumbling down at her gesture et words, his eyes bright with so many emotions she felt they would both cry with the strength of it. He caressed her cheek with awe and kissed her lips once again, pressure after pressure.
Swiftly, he untied her shift, his hand slipping under it to take a breast and she moaned at his touch. He got rid of the offending garment, slipping it down. He smirked as he saw her bloomers. No, his Scarlett was certainly not like the other ladies. She was vibrant, passionate, and she would not let herself be caged. Full of anticipation, he felt himself like a boy opening a gift. Yet, he was a man, and he felt himself just hardening at the sight. He made his way with kisses from her lips to her throat, and marked her as his, delighting in her answers to his ministrations.
When the last piece of clothes on them was gone, they stopped a moment, staring at the other and trying to retrieve their wits and breath, their pulse deafening.
He saw her meaning before she even began to say it.
"Scarlett, you don't have to…"
And the truth was that he was a bit afraid she would do this. He had always been in control and her taking initiative was as much something he craved as something he was anxious about. Would she be tender? Fierce? Would she use him, like he once used her? If he told her to stop, would she?
Biting her lip, she looked at him with apprehension. She had never done that. Until her marriage, she did not know she could do that, taking the initiative, acting, touching as a man would. Now, she understood all the urgencies, all the things, the touches that she had rejected the first times they had coupled, feeling how strange it was when the conjugal duties had always been for her just that: the duty of laying and waiting until the intrusion in her womanhood stopped. Yet, little by little, begrudgingly, she had learned with him, unsure if it was right, confused by the attentiveness of his gaze who seemed to wait for every one of the treacherous reactions she did not want to give him, until one night, one night of madness and lust, she could not hold back anymore all the things it brought.
But he had already had that experience…
She glared at him, fierce, the defiance making her boldly put her hand around his erected manhood. He gasped at her gesture. She would make him forget all the women he had had before her. She was Scarlett O'Hara Butler, and she would not be bested by anyone, she decided.
She felt her core pulse with need and she gasped, surprised at this sharp feeling, her fingers slightly tightening around him.
"Softly," He hissed as he put his hand on hers. "Be soft with me…"
I'm already too far gone, he thought.
She released a breath and she blinked.
"Did I…?"
He rose, kissing her desirously, and she relaxed. "No… But if you continue, I might not be able to hold on…"
"Oh."
He bit lightly the lobe of her ear, guiding her, and she opened her mouth, the ghost of a cry not even leaving her lips, especially when his hand left her to touch her lower lips.
"You are so wet, my love," He whispered. "Have you been waiting for me that long?"
Releasing him, she pushed him back to the bed, flushed, and kissed him to make him shut up, yet she could not deny the truth of it.
"And what is that against my belly? Are you pointing a dagger at me, husband?"
He chuckled darkly. "I thought we should not talk about such things. My, Scarlett, I'm surprised…"
She pouted, cheeks burning and eyes almost dark with desire on him.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
And she did. Ferociously, the kisses almost akin to bites, both of them wanting to take a taste of the other. He put his hands in her hair, pushing her against him and she felt his need growing, like the low rumbling of a predator about to pounce. She rested her hands on his chest, feeling she might lose it if they slipped. She was pressed so hard on him she felt every outline of his, each part touching a part of her she barely knew could procure such gripping sensations. She rubbed herself on him, blindly trying to ease that scratch, yet it wasn't nearly enough. Instead, it seemed the sensation went higher and higher. She was groping at each feeling, each arousal that left her shivering and arching. He groaned against her, following her in that merry hell she was leading him to. Slowly, as if realizing what she needed, she straightened and led him in.
She let out an almost feral whine as he entered her, and he almost let out a soft cry of relief. Yes, he thought. That's my port where I always anchor, that's my home. I am home, finally…
"You are glorious…" He whispered as she began to ride him, her frame swaying on him in the most sensual way he felt he would barely last enough time. It had been so long, the waiting of her, and now she was there, with him…
She only answered with a hum, eyes half close, focused on her own rhythm, and the waves of feelings that came with it, stronger and stronger.
With his foot on the board of the bed, he slipped them wholly in it, his hands gripping her buttocks, and she cried out, arching as his cock went deeper in her. She felt it pulse, the echo of it a storm that deepened as she pushed and pushed against him. He hissed as she gripped the hair on his chest, the pain a slight tingle compared to the pleasure it procured. It would certainly leave a scratch, he thought. Yet, he did not care. His heart pounding, he reached out for her cheek, barely believing she was here, by his side, a reality more than the dreams that had haunted him so many times.
"Scarlett, look at me," he pleaded when he wanted to order, voice hoarse yet insistent. "LOOK AT ME!"
She opened her eyes wide, savage and firm, her eyes claiming him as her man, and he wanted to scream he was just that.
"Rhett!" She cried. And he understood her plead.
He turned the tables and suddenly he was all her world, wind, water, earth and fire combined, wild and fierce, without any restriction, pushing her until she cracked. He took her hands with his, put them aside. The fingers intertwined.
Her body arched through the wave of pleasure that overcame her. She felt she could not control anything anymore, not even herself, and yet she accepted it with bliss, every pore of herself open to him and the sensations he was bringing her to. It felt like she was jumping from a cliff, the salted wind whipping her, making her feel alive and clean. And all she could say, was "I love you, I love you, I love you…"
With a growl, he pushed himself away from her and she cried, the gesture so strong he hit the board at the end of the bed, and she almost feared it would break. His seed spilled on the sheets and she watched, still dazzled, her legs still opened and deliciously aching. His head was downcast, and she could only see clearly his clenched jaw, and his strong chest rising and falling painfully quickly.
She blinked, realizing, the cold coming back to her with the lack of him, and a doubt coming to her. He did not want to finish inside her. He did not want the consequences of it.
Did he not want to be with her?
Quietly, she went closer to him, her heart beating to the tip of her lips. With a trembling hand, she touched his cheek, and he finally looked at her. Seeing his eyes, all doubt left her.
He touched her back, the long fingers grazing her jaw in wonder.
"My baby… my woman… my queen..."
She hiccupped in a relieved giggle. Her heart fluttered.
He took her in his arms fiercely and she melted under him, happily surrendering to his power, for in a way, it also became hers, theirs.
She had him. She had him!
And he had her. Completely.
She closed her eyes, feeling happy tears flowing down her cheeks. He kissed it away, tenderly, lovingly. Exhausted with too many feelings, they fell asleep in each other's arms, to the rhythm of the other's heart.
The morning came too soon, its light intruding through the opening of the thick curtains, and Rhett was the first to wake up.
He looked at her, at the naturally red lips, the tender curves as she slept and the white skin that thankfully were not covered in make-up anymore. A feeling of urgent, animalistic love in his heart made him want to wake her and take her again. Yet, he refrained from it. His hand caressed her tousled hair softly, and he kissed it, humming with a smile the tender flowery scent.
He'd push her to leave with him. They had no time now. She was already on the break, at his mercy. One little incentive and she'd be on her knees, asking him. He was going to show her the limits of her demands, and she'd realize on her own that it could be so much more if only she asked.
It was a gamble, but one he was sure of the ending now.
Oh, the torture to untangle his limbs from hers, but they had not a lot of time to waste. Until tonight, maybe. So many things needed to be done…
He began to dress himself, a feeling of deep satisfaction in himself, and a confidence he had not felt for so long.
He was buttoning his shirt when she awakened, the pleasing ache still settled in her chest and between her legs. His back was on her and she smiled. She tried to reach him, yet her hand fell down. He had raised from the bed to take his jacket. She blinked, observing him, her heart held in a tight grip.
He had felt her awakening. His ears had perceived the slight nuzzle of her face in the pillow, followed by the whisper of the linen of the sheets. He did not turn back, feeling he would give all of his cards away if he did. Instead, he briskly finished tying the knot of his necktie. The ring was in his pocket, waiting.
"So. It's the end of our little game. The two days are over."
She stiffened.
His voice was teasing, but she was not. She had not perceived it. In a heart was a strong feeling of doubt and fear that wouldn't go. Isn't it enough? She thought. Was this night just this? A little game?
All of his words, her words, the words of others came to her. All the bad words, the pity in Mrs. Meade's voice… No, she'd prove them wrong, she had to!
She'd push him to stay, she thought, swiftly putting her gown on, and kissing darling Bonnie's cameo on it for good chance. She'd give him what he said he wanted, show him the limits of his game. Then he'd have no choice but to ask her to stay. She wouldn't beg anymore. She had already begged enough. She could not hold it anymore. The matter was too urgent and she did not see any other way.
She opened the drawer of her dressing table, took the papers of divorce and signed it.
"Yes. Yes, it is," She said as she handed it to him, her eyes defiant. "Here, take it, Rhett. You are free to leave, now. As you wanted."
He froze, his heart falling. Seeing her insistent eyes on him, he felt himself closing up. No, she would not be allowed to see.
"So this is it, then?" He said carefully. "Alright. Alright…"
She observed him closely. "Isn't it what you said you wanted?"
He nodded, his mouth violently down, before it turned into an ironic, mean smile.
"Yes, you've got me. Thank you for this… last little fun party. It was quite enjoyable. And you are free to… whatever man you took into your unsubtle nets," He shoved his fists in his pockets, fighting the urge to put them around her pretty neck. "May I ask who? The honorable Ashley? I've seen him look at you quite feverishly yesterday. You had the dress for it, after all. Or maybe that feeble little Todd?"
She stared, dumbfounded, her heart plummeting.
"What?"
"Or maybe Richard finally got at you?" He snarled, gripping her hard on the elbows, his eyes burning on the traitress before him. "I should have known. The necklace… I knew I had seen it before. Well, sorry to destroy your illusions, my little queen of deceit, but you've been deceived. He's only interested in you because of a bet we had. So tell me, is it him?"
"What?"
There, the mask slipped a little, letting a glare show.
"Don't play the foolish ingenue with me, Scarlett, you owe me that at least."
"I do not owe you anything!" She snapped, escaping his grip. "You come into my life on and on, always expecting something from me, but never telling me anything about it. I don't see why suddenly you're at me like some… jealous husband or anything. It's not like you want to stay with me, don't you?"
Her slanting green eyes were intense on him as she said so, cat-eyes observing their prey, waiting for the moment to prowl.
But he was no mouse for her to catch.
He huffed, took the papers, put it in his suitcase and descended the stairs with it.
"Not jealous, my pet, don't flatter yourself. Merely curious."
"Do you have such an opinion about me that you can't even see the truth anymore?" She cried, gripping at the banister, swiftly trying to follow him. "Even when I told you so so many times?"
He sneered, and she felt cold all over.
"Oh, the truth, yes, I've seen it. I've heard it too. Quite a gruesome tale, though I could see you were none too pleased about it and at one moment, I thought you would just give it up. Revenge is not such sweet a thing, is it? Fool that I was, I thought that you'd stop, but it seemed you had to surprise me once more."
She froze in the middle, numbed by the distance between them. There it was, as the last time. He was leaving her, and she was trying to prevent him.
"What do you want, Rhett? Oh, can't you just admit it?" She insisted, feeling the floor crumbling under her feet. She was losing control of the situation and she did not like it. "One day you say you love me, the other you act like you can't wait to be far from me. Oh, my darling, can't you see? I have been wanting you to react, to get you to notice. I'm waiting for you halfway, as you asked me to do. I've been trying to show you that I am. Won't you join me there? Why can't you never afford to tell me what you really feel? Why is it easier in a game? Is my love not enough for you to stay and reach out to me? What do you want?"
She was still playing with him. He had finally seen through her ploy, and still, she continued her act.
Finally at the end of the staircase, he raised his head toward her, jeering. He gripped the handle of his suitcase. A cruel smile came to his mask, his heart bleeding underneath.
"My dear, you misunderstood me. I have what I want, haven't I? I am finally free, and more than that, I got to have a little piece of fast pleasure on the way. There's nothing for me halfway, my pet. I've learned long ago you have nothing worthwhile for me."
From her lips came an agonizing scream, like a wounded animal crying for mercy. Swiftly, she took off her engagement ring and missed him.
"Take it back, Rhett! No, more than that, take all back! Take that shallow piece of jewelry, that is worth as much as your love for me!" She cried, "You wanted me to be ashamed by it, and now so am I, to have thought I could ever have believed it was gold, not glitter, and to have wanted to fight for it, fight for you. Just like glitter, it faded away with just a touch of the wind. You can keep all these fears you have, and that have prevented you from ever reaching out when you could have had me! Because you could have had me, Rhett, and that's the saddest thing of all. No, you had me. I wanted to prove to you that I could fight by your side, be your equal. But that's not what you wanted… That never was what you wanted. But don't you guess it, Rhett?" She relented. "In the way, it seems I became so much more! Go ahead, try, I can live without you!"
She threw away her wedding ring with a sharpness that hurt her finger, this time hitting him in the chest.
"Take it all, your empty whispers in the night, your secrets and lies, and leave me, just like you know so much how to do when life is coming to crumbles and the world is upside down. Even now, I know you're lying to me, you're lying to me because you're afraid, and you can't bear to believe that I was true to you. That I showed you the truth about what I felt. You can't bear to commit and take a step toward me! How easy to think I was the unfaithful one, the untrustworthy! You're always looking for ways to prove that you were right to distrust me. Oh, but my heart has had enough of all of this! Believe what you want, Rhett, I've never been able to prevent you from doing so! I've reached out for you, again and again, and you still would not believe it, for it did not happen the way you wanted it to. You wanted the whip, and you wanted me to show my back to it! But I'll survive. I always do. This time I'll be the one that got away, not you. This is the end of my story. No reunion of great love, for that has never been what you sought, no moping around for the woman while the man becomes a triumphant martyr. Now, it's over, and I'd sooner burn to Halifax, and the whole house with me, than see your lying face again!"
The last thing she threw was the cameo on her gown, and it fell on the marble as he dodged it, an old reflex that he regretted as the sound of it broke into his ears like the shattering of a heart. Her eyes followed it and widened in recognition. He stared at it, numb, feeling his knees shaking in his boots.
With that act, her anger fell down and her legs gave up on her with a soft rustle of fabric. Only stayed the despair. He saw her mouth trembling and tears falling from her eyes, almost choking her as she tried to talk.
"Oh, my darling… I didn't mean it! It's all repeating itself and I'm… I'm… I'm sorry… So sorry… I want you! I love you… You know it's true. Don't you want me anymore? Don't you love me anymore? I thought…? Oh! Damn you, Rhett Butler! You made me beg once again! Isn't it enough?!"
He faltered, yet his mask did not slip, as if stuck with the fear that clung to him like leeches. He could not stay there. Not now, at least. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to gather his strengths. If he stayed, she would be the one to win and settle the conditions. If he stayed, he would be shattered like that piece of jewelry. She needed to see he would not be treated like a fool. And these words… No, he could not be the one to let it all down just like that. He needed to go, to retreat, to lick his wounds before coming back, in a way that would make her realize there was no other way. There were so many things that needed to be done, that he had put away for later. Yes, that would be right. Then, she'll see. He'll make her see.
Yet, how heartbreaking it was, to see her on her knees, crying and crying for him, the tears pearls on her alabaster skin he wanted to catch with his fingers, stop with his lips... How pained his heart, how urgent was the need to ran through their stairs, take her in his arms and tell her he did not mean it either!
Yet, he couldn't. Not now.
One last look and it was done.
The door closed behind him and she knew there would be no turning back. She was alone.
The door closed behind him and he knew all he wanted was to turn back. To her. To them.
But the door was closed, and he continued walking. He would find a way to open it again. He had no doubt about it. But not now. He had one last matter to settle. It would not kill her to wait a little more.
He called one of his men waiting nearby and caught him by the jacket. He whispered his orders firmly.
"Stay here. If you see anything suspicious, stop it. Until I come back, please check my wife and send me news by Pork every hour. He'll know where to put it."
He'd need to see when she would calm down. Else, she would not even listen to him. They needed to leave swiftly.
First stop at the station, where he ordered the direction of their things.
He returned to his office, consulted his files and wrote letters of convocations for three men he knew all too well. He had them now. They would stop what they were about to do.
He went to the Hotel and went to check his first messages, brought by Pork.
'Wife angry. Throws things.'
Not surprising. He'd need a little while before coming back. Her fits of anger were sharp, but it did not linger generally. Then, she would certainly sulk, wait for him to apologize. And she would certainly forget she also had to apologize.
Oh my darling… I didn't mean it! It's all repeating itself and I'm… I'm… I'm sorry… So sorry… I want you! I love you…
He cursed his memory. He could not afford to look back. Not now.
He tried to go see Richard, but he wasn't there. The maid told him he had left early, in a mean spirit. He cursed. Then gathered some of his men for the next steps.
Documents were sent to the journal, and he returned to the Hotel.
"Doesn't want to leave her room. Strange smell downstairs."
He sighed. His brow raised a little at the mention of the smell, but then he remembered one of the servants was known to sometimes burn what she was cooking. Which one was that? Pansy? No, Pansy was gone. So who?
It did not matter.
He went on.
Richard had still not returned. Rhett slipped into his chambers, fiddling on the lock, and looked through his things. Nothing resembling a plan. Damn. He had underestimated him. Or overestimated him, maybe. The boy had no game, only bluff. And still miniatures of that unfortunate girl that had led him on. He saw the seal on a bottle and frowned. He had certainly wanted to play a trick on him, for revenge. What a waste of time.
Rhett locked it as if nothing had happened, yet he felt unrest.
He went back to his visits, the matter taking longer than expected. So much that when he returned to the Hotel, two hours had already passed.
'Pack. Two men at the door. Made them leave. Smell worsening.'
He frowned, his jaw clenching.
Oh, hell no!
Yet, there was still another one.
'Stopped. Cries. Nothing to report.'
Oh, thank God. He still had a little time.
Yet, his heart ached at the vision of her crying on her own.
It would allow her to think, he rationalized. She would see he only wanted her good.
At least he hoped so. After all, she had waited for him when he left with Bonnie, hadn't she?
Wrong example. They had ruined that chance. And it was not comparable. She loved him, she knew it. He knew it. They would make it right. It was a misunderstanding, certainly, and now that he was away from her, he could begin to reflect more on this. Oh, if only he had seen it earlier, what was hiding behind the bravado!
She had used the same tricks as he did, and he had taken it at face value. And by doing so, they had fallen into the same traps as before.
They needed to stop doing it to each other, she was right. He knew at least he could not bear it.
He went to Bonnie's tomb and let himself grieve for her, asking her to forgive him to leave her in the dark like that, in a city he did not want to return.
When his heart was sore and his eyes hurt, he rose and continued his way.
There was one other link in Atlanta that he needed to cut away. Not the most important, yet it was essential to his future happiness.
Releasing a breath, he opened the door of Belle's house. It seemed to him he heard the sound of an explosion, but he shrugged. Must be one of these prototypes of steam buggies failing. It was the second this week.
He looked at the inside, garish and gaudy. Rich colors, sharp perfumes and textures, aggressive to his eyes, yet that somehow highlighted the girls' outfits. It was a place fit for orgies, and it showed. Not that it was a bad thing per se. A whorehouse had to look the part. Yet, he wondered how he could have spent so much time here.
Oh, yes. He was drunk and desperate most of the time. And he had a friend, ready to listen to him.
He still had a fondness for Belle. She had been there in times when he needed a willing ear and soothing gestures, and releases for all his frustrations.
Yes, he had used her. Used her because he could not have Scarlett. Used her because he knew she loved him and welcomed all his attentions. That made him feel guilty, and he did not quite linger in that. It was time for him to pay his debt. He had already done too much with his past investments on her. Now was the time when he needed to let it all go, officially this time.
He found her at the table, her tainted red hair almost flaming with the dirty light. He felt almost pity at seeing her face covered in make-up, the red sharp on her lips. Yet it went away all too soon. She was opening a big bottle of Champagne with a blue seal that made him narrow his eyes. But then he composed himself.
The answers would come in time.
"Hello, Belle."
"Rhett!" The Madam greeted him with a large smile. "I knew you'll come back! You always do. What has she done to you, now?"
He stopped, his expression stern.
"Belle… is this bottle yours?"
"Jealous?" She said with a taunting twitch of the mouth as she rose to meet him. "It's your friend, Richard, who sent it to me. Charmin lord. Pays good money and likes to send me these little bottles. A bit shy, sent me a darkie to propose me to be my silent investor. Must be the European in him. I accepted, of course. My favorite one let me down," She pouted. "Why are you here, Rhett?"
"Just a visit from an old friend," He stated coldly. "And an advice."
She put her hands on his collar, slowly taking off his cravat. Around them, there was this usual agitation, the laughs of girls overdoing it, and the music, lascivious.
"What advice woul' you give for por ol' Belle?"
He took a step back, his expression closed and stern.
"To leave. It's over now. I told you not to do it, and still you did."
She stopped.
"Well, I'm not proud of it," She turned away, furiously filling herself a glass of Champagne. She drank it and her eyes glittered. She leaned on the table for a moment, before turning back to him. She was clinging on a hope, her accent returning with a force. "But if ya're here, that means ya care, right? We're friends?"
"We were."
She froze.
"It's all about her again, isn't it?" She cried, before scowling. "Scarlett!"
The name left her lips like a curse, an insult, and he wanted to hit her for daring.
Yet, an instant of reflection made him remember it was he who brought this. He had talked to the whore so often of his wife, cursing her like she was doing now. He had entertained the woman's hopes because it brought him comfort.
"Oh, I pitied her! I pitied her, and I was glad to, when your poor child died and you did not love her anymore! But you want her still, right? But guess what? There are many who want her!"
She turned back, taking another glass.
"What is it in her that is so bewitchin?!" She snapped. "You, Richard, Ashley… She's not even a lady!"
Now, that was enough.
"Shut up, Belle!" He raged, his fists clenched and the feeling his head would explode from the strength of his fury. "You know nothing about it!"
"Oh, she's a poison to your veins, alright, a fire in your soul! But why doesn't it get at her?!" She held her head high in anger, fuming. "With all the things that she does, how could she even be able to leave from her house and attract your attention, yours and the others, when you told me she's not even good in bed?" He scowled, refraining from the envy of breaking her neck. She huffed, unaware of it. "At least, there's one of them that knows who she is, now…"
"Belle, that's enough…"
Yet, it did not seem enough for her, and she would have continued if not for the sudden agitation around them.
Rhett blinked. A siren rang through the open door like a strong winter wind. Surprised, the girls in the house gathered to see what it was all about.
He looked through the window.
"The firemen," He said numbly. "They take the way to Peachtree Street…"
At his side, Belle paled, her mouth opening, then closing. Appalled, he turned towards her.
"Belle?"
She shook her head, then held a defensive stance.
"It's not my fault. No, it's not."
"What do you mean?" He relented, gripping her shoulders urgently and shaking her. "Belle, what have you done?"
"It's her fault," She mumbled, shaking her head in shock. "She brought this. She played with fire and now she got caught in it…"
"Damn you!" He barked. "What have you done? What is happening?"
But she only repeated numbly "she got caught in it", her eyes still wide and anguished.
She might get caught in a bigger wind than expected…
He blinked. When had he heard that?
I don't know… It was strange and incoherent… Fire. Wind. Death…
A cry in the darkness, sharp among the murmurs of the crowd…
The fire…Rhett, there's a fire! Where are you?
Rhett, do you believe in prophecies?
What had he answered? He could not seem to remember.
No, it couldn't happen. She couldn't… Who would dare… It had to be another house, something else entirely.
Oh, couldn't it stop ringing?
You, mister, are your own enemy… You think secrecy is the best way to play, but she's a wild card, the one you want…
Rhett, what do you want?
Rhett, what would you be ready to forgive?
If you play with her blindly, you might lose it all… Life's no gamble, sir.
I'd sooner burn to Halifax, and the whole house with me, than see your lying face again!
The siren rang some more. A strange foreboding in his heart, he suddenly ran to his horse and urged him to go forward. The damn animal resisted him, yet he managed to make himself be obeyed.
He saw and smelt the thick smoke before he even reached it. And when he finally got back, his eyes hurt from the burn of it. There was already a large crowd gathering. Swiftly, he jumped from his black stallion and was immediately stopped by Pork, who was in hysterics.
"Mistah Rhett! You be dere!" He cried. "Da house… Miz Scarlett…"
He pushed him away, pushed his way through the crowd, thick and frustratingly immobile. But when he went through it, he stared.
The house was on fire.
...
Did my fanfiction just turn into a tragedy? *checks the tags* I would say no... Not really?
See you soon!