Hello everyone and thank you for your constant support!
By the way, Thomas A. Green is (for those who don't already know), a real person, who really tried to improve the life of the residents of the Asylum of Milledgeville. I hope I managed to do him justice at least a bit for the short time he was introduced.
I hope you will like this chapter!
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Chapter 35
Morality had never been a priority for Rhett Butler. If it prevented him to get what he wanted, he tended to try to work his way around it. Morality, he had learned, could be quite the fickle fellow, changing according to circumstances and society, and if he knew the rules by heart, that did not mean he had to abide by them if he had much to lose in the process. He was no man to fear consequences, nor to truly believe in any almighty entity people said he should be afraid of. He had seen too much for that, a nicety of his own father who dearly loved playing it in his own family.
The war hadn't quite changed that. He had long been his own man then, and he knew survival could depend on a few seconds, not leaving much time to reflect on whether it was good or not. In fact, he liked to play with the limits of it, and see the other gentlemen unable to do anything about it.
Bonnie's arrival though changed his priorities, and morality was then a code he had at least to appear to be the model of. Yet, it had stuck him into a very uncomfortable routine, measuring every gesture, every word he would make, a fight against himself at each moment that he had to do alone, and he resented that. He resented Scarlett for not fighting with him, for not having so much compassion over the situation, for not loving him as he longed her to do, so much that he forgot for a time he had been the one to urge her to let go of all of it. It was like an ill-fitted costume that he had to endure, a flattering one certainly, one that was easier to wear when he was confronted with people like Melanie Wilkes who flattered and encouraged him in that direction. There was certainly something very soothing in knowing that someone did not judge you for your wrongs and amplified your goods.
Yet, mostly, he considered it like a restraint, a leash that strangled him, and he broke free once, that day when jealousy got the better of him, and he couldn't bear to let Scarlett passing him by anymore.
He had thought the days of adventure were over him. It seemed they weren't. Yet it wasn't as freeing as he thought he would be, though it gave its rushes of excitement.
There wasn't Scarlett to share it with, and as much as he loved the children, this was no place for them.
She certainly led them into a merry chase, making the game linger more than he ever thought she could. Yet now it was enough. He wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her, and it killed him to think that she could be found first by someone else. Yet, she kept escaping.
It was already quite nagging she had actually managed to set Ashley free and organize the abduction of Beau Wilkes. Missing her by one day in Milledgeville was the last straw, especially when words came of a nurse accompanying the fugitives. A dead-end, it seemed, and he did not doubt she was the one to have created it. Yet it made him waste precious time and he was in no mood to appreciate the effort.
He couldn't quite count on Todd and Patrick, it seemed. They were too slow for him, and their reports not as detailed as he would have liked.
He had thought of the places she could go to. Thought of the directions that needed to be explored. Patrick went to Savannah, where members of her distant family, whether on her mother's side or her father's, still lived, and Todd to Macon, to look for eventual relatives of the Hamilton (a dead-end Rhett himself planned, for he did not really want him in the way).
Yet they would be fools if they thought it would be enough, and Rhett wouldn't enter himself into the race. He had planned it since the beginning. He was not one to wait and see.
So, he had to make quite the drastic decisions. And maybe he had been quite over-the-top with it.
He knew Scarlett would be too wary to fall for his ploys. She knew him too much for that. Also, she was certainly in constant movement, and there was also a risk of her not noticing the obvious. Knowing this, he adapted his plans by attracting an easier target. That little servant of hers, that seemingly had more influence than he had thought at first.
The idea was to trap her first, then encourage her to reveal the location of his wife.
Yet, instead, the bait he used did not attract the one he was looking for. It attracted the very man he had tried to find after the fire, but who until then had slipped through his fingers like sand.
To his surprise, the boy was reasonable enough, though his attempts to escape forced Rhett to tie him to his chair for the day. He did not have the information Rhett needed, yet he was ready to try and get it, when the moment would arise.
Yet, Rhett had another idea in mind, an idea that needed this man to stay a prisoner a moment longer, and it proved to be a good one when it came much swifter than he thought it would be.
It was Andrew that informed him of the intrusion, the new person who had slipped into the staff of the hotel he lodged in. So, he waited and stayed close, a seemingly sleeping snake, until finally actions were taken, and he just had to eavesdrop on another seemingly touching scene from that drama he lived on.
"… I tried to protect you," came the distressed voice of the man he had caught.
"And that's quite the good job you did of it!" The dark-skinned woman that was trying to work on his ropes scowled. "Getting caught like that! I don't need your protection, Aren. I've been living on my own too long without you interfering."
"Pansy… Hear me out, there's something…"
"Shut up and actually try to be useful. It's not easy to cut it when you keep wriggling!"
Rhett was tempted to laugh for a moment, yet he figured it was better to enter the show himself.
"Well, well, well…" He came in, amused, before leaning on the threshold of the room, his feet crossing. "I thought I'd caught a mouse, it didn't come to my mind there would be two."
The woman jumped, and the knife she had in hand fell on the floor. Her eyes looked around, alert.
"Go on," Rhett continued. "Deliver your friend. I need to talk to you."
After a moment of hesitation when she looked at him with narrowed eyes, she did, and it allowed then for a much more agreeable conversation.
Well, he let said-Aren do most of the talking, noticing his former servant was very much piqued at having been lured in like that.
"Pansy, that's a lot of money at stake," Aren urged finally. "Why hesitate? You don't owe her any loyalty. You just have to say where she is."
Pansy's expression had softened under his gaze, yet her eyes were conflicted, her lips set in a thin line.
"Aren…"
"We could build a life from scratch with it, a life of our own just like I've promised you," He insisted. "You've been sold as well as me by their people. Don't you think it's a fair payback?"
"Here's a reasonable boy," Rhett thought with a smirk.
"And what is to become of her, if I do so?" She turned suddenly toward Rhett. "Are you going to treat her right?"
"That is not of your concerns." He felt offended by that. He had always made sure Scarlett had everything necessary, and now he was questioned by a former servant of hers? The audacity of being questioned by a wench!
"That is entirely of my concerns," She quipped. "I am the one with the information."
"Are you?" He mused. "How do I know you have it? And anyway, I won't let you go without it."
Oh, he certainly knew she had it. Yet, bluffing might get something of her, after all.
She scowled, then paused, thinking, and Rhett wanted to shake the information out of her, counting the minutes that were lost in talking so.
"Give me one day, and I'll tell you," She said suddenly. "She won't move now. Not without me appearing."
Rhett frowned, his arms crossing.
"She's up to something. What is it?"
Pansy's eyes were defiant when they met his.
"How much am I paid to say it? From what I've gathered, I should already be a millionaire by now."
He smirked.
"Don't tempt your luck, you did not enter the gamble. And anyway, you did not lead her to me," He said. "You have your day. Take advantage of it."
He added, smirking deviously at them before leaving the scene, locking the door behind them: "After all, I have no use for this room for now."
And indeed, he did not. He did not sleep much these days, could not.
And anyway, he had some visits to do first.
…
He came back frustrated and weary, the matters not advancing the way he wanted to. Yet, at least, he had managed to get the newspaper before it was released.
He ordered a coffee and settled in the chair of the parlor.
Scarlett had been an irregular correspondent, and sometimes the column was taken by something else, with the apologies of the working team, for it had somehow become quite popular, with people sending letters to know of the anonymous author. It had intrigued them, especially when it seemed so harmless, with a hint of nostalgia for the old World and its rules that lured them in.
Some of them were Wade's, though the boy preferred to keep it private. Rhett respected it, knowing Scarlett would not just indicate to him her exact whereabouts. Yet, he suggested to him some questions, hoping she would slip something.
Today, there was the continuation of her story, and he read it with expectations.
.
… She had found back the friend she thought she had lost, and with her, she felt stronger. It felt like a relief, to share battles with someone with more convictions than her, someone that was believing a grand cause.
People needed to awaken, Viola said. Stories had to be told, long time stories of abuse and violence, of people oppressing people and using them. People needed to raise and see things as they were and fight for their rights, so that it would not happen again. The truth needed to be said loud and clear, and people couldn't keep putting a veil on it. But for that, it was, there were some persons that had to be urged to tell the stories, to write it in ink, to carve it on stones, for the greater good.
Well, Solene did not understand it completely. However, it was good to know she could be of use. And anyway, it brought some adventure to her otherwise uneventful race, and she wasn't about to say no to this.
She thought of her children. She wanted them to know she loved them, that she was safe, and she would come back to them. Yet, not now. The enemy was near, and she was needed elsewhere.
They would have to wait and be brave and gentle to the ones that loved them. Yet she knew they already were. She sent them a million of kisses, hoping they would reach them safe and sound and nice.
Here she was, in a kingdom that had waited for battles that never came, and she was determined to get some money out of its unused powders. She would take advantage of its gardens to create a pretty crown for her darling little girl and of its libraries so that her boy be given the best books available for his studies. For, after all, they deserved the best.
.
Rhett smiled, his mind connecting the dots, though fearing others might do the same. He needed to act quickly.
A telegram came, and he hesitated, the thrill of opportunity rushing through his veins.
Yet, it would have to wait. He had to get Scarlett back first.
He was about to write back when suddenly the door was opened with a bang.
"Sir, they're gone!" Alphonse said, rushing to his side with a face flustered with apprehension. "They used the window!"
Rhett sighed, closing the newspaper.
He was surrounded by incompetents.
"Anything they left?" He said quietly, taking a sip of his coffee.
Alphonse, surprised by the lack of outburst, nodded shyly, before handing him a piece of paper, with a rushed and rough handwriting.
.
There's a little thing, fragile yet precious, that can't be paid, and you won't get her back if you don't understand it.
Think again.
.
He stared, cursed, and crumpled the note, before throwing it away. A frown came to his face and he refrained a groan of frustration as he leaned back on his chair.
"What are we doing now, sir?" Alphonse asked, a little bit on edge. "Do you want to get them back?"
Rhett snorted. What was the need now?
"No need," He said. "I have the information I wanted."
…
Augusta, city of gardens. The city that had waited for the General who never came. Now it seemed once again to be waiting for something exciting to happen. Something to make people forget the losses, the crushed hopes and pride, wake them up from their lethargy. Oh, they prospered, very much so, becoming the most important cotton markets in the world (or so they liked to think). Yet, there was no thrill to that, and the superior class had to make do with the amusements in hand.
In this context a woman came with a fantastical bang, one in a group of seemingly members of the traveling community, a people with a constant presence and continuity of life that seemed unaware of the previous war.
What a curious little gypsy she was, people thought. Curious and so very fascinating. She flirted her way around, pale green eyes dancing, soft-spoken with the women, with an almost honeyed tone, and bold with the men who came around her. She flattered them by her feminine ignorance, so much that very few noticed the way her sentences were turned, hinting for more than an empty head. She said very serious, sometimes very controversial statements one time, then silly remarks the other. She teased and soothed, piqued and charmed.
Yes, she was a curiosity, and the intelligentsia was very much in need of such a novelty. Nobody knew who had remarked her first, who had invited her first, and where she really came from, but now it seemed she was invited everywhere. Yet, it seemed she was quite selective with her acceptances, for she rarely appeared, and when she was, no one could say precisely when she would be coming.
It was one of these parties, and she arrived quite on time, which flattered the host immensely. At one of these parties Rhett had managed to sneak in. It was the fourth one in a week for him, actually, and now it paid off.
His gaze followed her every move as she talked, as she danced and played. Her losses, though little, were loud and distressful, so much that it eclipsed her victories. She did not seem to notice him, and he stayed silently apart, a polite guest that made his way discreetly but was nonetheless remarked.
And then came a time when it seemed she remembered she was supposed to be a gypsy, and a moment was dedicated to fortune-telling. The ladies around, and a few gentlemen, although they claimed not to believe in such things, came in turns in the office they had reserved for her. Few left unhappy about the results, which were shared in soft whispers, except perhaps some of the gentlemen who seemed mostly discomfited, to Rhett's satisfaction.
At the end of the night, he finally slipped into the room. The thick, royal blue curtains had been drawn and a big fire burned bright in the fireplace, almost the only light in it with the few oil lamps. It was a mysterious atmosphere that had been created in what definitely was by daytime a very clear room, the shadows of the furniture giving an ominous but thrilling touch to the mix.
His eyes caught her from the first moment.
A thin dark blue veil wrapped her head and most of her face, making the outsider focus on her glinting, dangerous eyes. When it wasn't attracted by her cleavage, negligently low as if she just went out of bed. Of her breasts, he could guess the tender shape through the white shift, and it made his throat go dry.
She looked enticing, like a mystery to unveil. Even if it seemed quite outdated. It did the trick though.
One thing that disturbed him though was that it did not look like she was wearing any stay. All he could see was that dark waistcoat closed by golden buttons, and as his eyes went down there was only a loosely tied belt and a long burgundy skirt.
He locked the door behind him and kept the key in his pocket.
She froze when she saw him. He saw clearly the mechanisms of her sharp mind working until finally, she composed herself.
"Ye ast for a readin', suh?"
"A reading? Yes, why the hell not," He said, walking forward and lounged almost lazily on the chair near the chess set table, his fingers grazing a moment the olive wood. "Yes, that's why I ask you here, after all. I suppose your price is very expansive."
Her eyes glinted as she settled on the chair opposite him, and he wished he could see more than the hint of her lips stretching in a tantalizing smile.
"Good readin' always is, suh. If ye're truly ready for it."
"I'll see what you're offering first. I'm not one to pay the goods before seeing it."
"Oh, really?"
His mouth went down in an amused rictus as he gestured her to continue. When she put her tiny fingers on his hand, after much negotiation when she tried to empty his purse, certainly for her own amusement, he felt a shiver of anticipation, a warmth almost surprising for such cold little hands. There were vibrant sparks in that green, in that light touch exploring each inch of his palm.
"There, there, I see… What a flat, hard mount of Venus ye have. Dat's a stone-cold heart, ye can have, I b'lieve. And tis a long, long life line ye have here, suh. And a strong line of Apollo. And there, the heart-line… You had a wife, hadn't you?" The eyes went up, scrutinizing for a moment. "Thinking of getting another, maybe?"
"I'm beginning to think of it," He said quietly, trying to refrain the smirk from his face as he saw the purse of her lips. "That's the head-line, darling."
She froze. Yet, she said nothing, did not even look at him. She couldn't. Not now. She did not want to argue with him. Not now. And yet, she knew they had to. She knew she had to go.
"You've played me for a fool, Scarlett. But now it's over. Drop the act."
Her eyes glared at him, piercing and fierce. Her hands left his abruptly, and he felt their missing accurately, like a cold gush of air rushing through a window that had just been opened. With a huff, she took off her veil and threw it aside.
"Fiddle-dee-dee, you've played me for a fool many a time."
"Must it be always a fight with you?"
"I don't know, you tell me," She leaned back on the chair, crossing her arms and pouting. "How did you find me?"
"You always wanted to be the center of attention, my dear. I knew that you'd slip sooner or later."
"Great balls of fire, I hate you so damn much!" And with her anger, it rang true in part, and she could almost believe it. "What possessed you to play this trick? You've put your life on the line, and that of the children, my children!"
"What possessed you to play this trick?" He stood up abruptly, his shadow covering her, a dark and fearsome expression on his face. "Our children are alright, thank you for caring, darling, but not thanks to you."
"Oh, because that's thanks to you? Don't you realize…"
"What don't I realize?"
She realized she had fallen into his trap, and she was about to tell him everything when she had told herself she'd be cold, mean, superficial, and wrathful. She squared her shoulders, held her head high, and faced him with a scowl.
"To everyone, I am dead," She stated coldly, composing her face so he wouldn't see the plead underneath. "I can go wherever I want. I can do whatever I want. I am untouchable."
Swiftly, he took her hand in his, black orbs maddeningly intense. She struggled slightly when he put his knife out of his pocket. She bit her lip, but then her eyes met his and she stood, hypnotized, a little bit of fear mixing with a surprising desire gripping her guts. She barely felt the tingle of pain as he pressed the point on the tender part of her palm.
"You can bleed."
He froze as he saw the drop of blood tainting the blade, and let go of her hand swiftly, putting the knife aside.
His skin was paler, but she did not see. It felt like she had been washed over with icy water, the drops running down her body, down her hair with the shame and apprehension of having her emotions been played once again by the man before her.
"No…" He whispered with pain in his eyes and his voice breaking. "Forgive me, my darling, I shouldn't have… forgive…"
Before she could ever escape, he pressed her tightly into his arms, her head at the level of his heart, that she could feel beating swiftly like a drum. She thought the imprints of his hands would stay on her body, and she didn't mind it if she could just stay here, in his warmth. She could feel the buttons of his shirt against her chest, throat, and cheek. He was trembling against her, and for a moment she wondered why. When his crossed arms left her shoulders, another instinct took her, to flee before he would force her to face him.
Yet, there was no escaping Rhett Butler as his hands lay firmly on each side of her face, and he urged her to look at him.
He was crying, she realized with a shock, like a pang to her heart. She faltered, looking at these bright, pained eyes, and felt the tears coming to her as well. She hiccoughed with the emotion of it, but he stayed still, his thumb drawing soothing lines on her cheekbone. Her lids fluttered under his touch. She felt like she might faint, her heart like a ticking bomb in her chest. She stared at his lips as they opened, letting out a ragged breath, and she whimpered. This sound seemed to wake him, and he kissed her. Ferociously, fervently, as if once he began, there was no way for him to stop it. And she did not want him to stop it. Did not bear to think of what could happen, if they were apart. She gripped the front of his shirt with desperate energy. She opened herself to him, and he took and took. And she took and took. She barely realized she was standing on the top of her toes until he finally put his forehead on hers, eyes closed, and she felt herself wavering from a lack of balance. His arms, which had lowered during the kiss, tightened around her body. She looked at him anxiously, hanging on every movement. The air was in and out of his mouth with a hard whistle, and she refrained from moaning.
His voice was uneven, choking with emotion as he finally opened his eyes and said:
"Let me be clear to you once and for all, you damn woman. No mockery, no hiding behind words I know you won't understand. You are the love of my life and there's no way in hell I'm letting you go out of my sight."
She hiccoughed with the feeling of her heart moving up to her throat, choking her. No, no, why now? She couldn't… He couldn't… Oh, why couldn't he understand? Why was he making it harder for her? Why was he so… marvelous, so damn lovable, and desirable when she would have preferred him to be cold, hard, and cruel? It would have been so much easier to face that Rhett, for she knew nothing would touch him!
"I… I…" She shook her head, looking at the golden buttons of his waistcoat. "I don't love you anymore."
He pinched her chin between thumb and index, lifting it to make her meet his eyes. Yet she kept it low, her thick black lashes hiding the green truth underneath. She did not move, even when she felt his forehead on hers, burning like his gaze.
"Liar."
"It's true!" She said urgently. "I've said so, I've written it!"
She pushed him away, trying to aim for the door, but he was faster.
"Oh, I'd wring your neck!" He retorted with a thick voice. "Must you be always that stubborn? Scarlett, be honest for once in your life. Had you not loved me, you would never have presented yourself like that and asked me not to think about you again. Your vanity would have preferred me pining after you like a dog."
"I could. Because I know you would be infuriated enough not to do what I tell you!"
He stared at her, disbelieving.
"Well thought, but I know you. You just thought about that one. But continue, I'd like to see how long you can last this masquerade."
Her mask tore up. She lunged at him, drumming his chest with her fists until he caught it and blocked it.
"You've told me you'd leave me the day I would make a moral decision instead of a practical one that would bring me more comfort!" He was tempted to laugh bitterly at the confusion in her morals. "Can't you see it's the right thing to you I'm trying to do? I'm setting you free, you damn rascal! Why, why aren't you giving me up, why…"
"Because I can't!" He snarled, the pain of his passion released in his voice. "I've… tried many times. But it's not to be. Because every time I think of home, I think of you. You are my home, Scarlett, and if I don't have you and the children, then nothing else matters, you hear me? Nothing else matters."
Scarlett let out a whine, her face tearing up, her mouth turning violently down as she tried to find something to say. Yet it eluded her, the distress shaking her to the core as she tried to blink back the tears. She felt herself being pushed in a daze she could not escape.
"Oh, Rhett…"
"So don't tell me you don't love me anymore, don't tell me I have to give you up, because I know that's a lie, and you know I can't bear a lie from you," His hands, big and strong, had released her wrists and were warm on her shoulders, and Scarlett felt her knees buckle weakly under her, surrendering to his imposing presence. "You're the only one I can be myself with, and who can accept me as I am. And don't lie, I know for you it is the same. Oh, sometimes it's unbearable and I want to spank you…"
The daze gone for a moment, she lifted an eyebrow.
"Spank me?"
"Don't get side-tracked, my dear. Oh God, I almost forgot how fun it could be to be with you!" Smiling with sudden fondness, he caressed her cheek and kissed the wrinkled brow. "Don't scowl like this, honey. Me finding you amusing doesn't me I'm looking down at you. Me thinking you amuse me means that each time I find something endearing, something that I love and which makes me love you more."
"You…. You have no right to say such sweet things when I want to be angry and aloof with you."
"Then I'll continue, because I don't want you to be angry and aloof with me."
"Surprising."
He chuckled and pressed her against him. The logs cracked soundly under the attack of the fire, red sparks jumping in the darkness.
"I should go."
He pressed harder.
"You should not."
"I…"
"No. Do not say anything. Not now. Please," He rasped. "We'll fight tomorrow, I promise. Just… Not now. Stay in my arms just a little more."
"Richard will come after me," She said urgently. "He saw me, after we… you know. After it, I…. I went to an inn to kill Olsen, but he died without I raised even a finger. Funny, isn't it?" She rambled, distressed. She had to make him see, but how? "And then, he saw me… And I thought, how to escape from him? How to make sure he would not go after you, Tara and the children? I needed to bide some time…"
"So you suggested him a game of chase," Rhett realized. "You've tricked him once again."
What a mess, he thought. What a woman.
She lowered her gaze.
"Yes."
"And you must have promised quite a lot if he accepted it."
"I made him think it was his idea."
"Of course, you did," He said, begrudgingly admirative. "But that was quite the gamble you did. He could have not honored that little contract. Or the ones he works with."
She glared at him, as if offended.
"I have the plans hidden, and people that can act at my place. I made that very clear. I was sure Richard would be single-minded in his search for me. And I did send Patrick to you…"
"Yes, I've seen you had quite the little gang. You quite forget to give them news, though."
"I had no mean to, at first!" She protested. "And then… You did find them, didn't you?"
He sighed. "Yes. Yes, I did." He buried his head into the short yet thick mass of her hair, flagrant, spicy, and gathered her frail, too frail body against him. "You could have found me…"
"Could I?" She shook her head softly. "No, that would have been too obvious. I couldn't take the risk to be taken on the way. And that would have led him exactly where I didn't want him to be."
It wasn't all. But he did not press her.
"I'll have to go."
"No, you don't."
She turned urgent, vibrant green eyes towards him, the pupils little and mobile.
"Help me find a way, then. For I on my own don't know any other way," She said distressingly. "I am dead, Rhett! How do you think I can go back? And how can I when…"
"Oh, my darling," He soothed the worried lines on her face and kissed lightly her forehead. "I'll find it. I'll make it right…"
She took a step back, but he did not let her.
"You…"
"Trust me…" He whispered. "Trust me…"
His lips came on hers, on her jaw, on her throat. Her fingers laid on his chest, then slowly made their way to his hair to press him harder. She attacked his necktie, getting rid of it swiftly as if it was an offensive object, and unbuttoned the shirt and waistcoat until there was nothing more to hinder the wondering of her greedy hands on his naked chest.
It was a powerful experience, one so strong when she reciprocated each caress that he turned her, pressing her back to him so that his hands could wonder more freely on her frame and slip under the fabric that covered her breasts. The end of it was sharp yet tender, and he teased it, liking the way it made her breathless, her eyes begging for more.
She was the same and yet she wasn't. Gone was the lost, uncertain look she had when she looked at him, replaced by a firm resolution. Gone was the sweet flowery scent, frivolous and airy, the scent of a girl trying to hide the loss of her innocence. Instead, it was a scent much spicier, earthier yet fresh and heady, with a complexity he had yet to decipher. The idea thrilled him and worried him at the same time.
No. She was the same, he reasoned. It was maybe because of the lack of the usual perfumes she used, the means she had in hand being unavailable.
She tried to turn back, but he did not let her. "Let me touch you," she said with a husky voice, yet he thought he would break if she did. She should not be allowed to see the extent of his vulnerability. And then she did not deserve it now, he decided. Let her pout and beg, that was her fault for leaving him in the dark for so long. She did not get to set the rules.
The waistcoat fell on the floor, heavier than he expected, with a sharp click that could not be explained by the buttons he just worked on. He went on with the skirt, frowning.
"By God, Scarlett, don't you wear any stays anymore? No basque? Any bloomers?"
She met his stare with a pert, teasing look as the skirt fell, leaving her only in her shift, that he slid slowly against her shape until, lightly, it escaped his grip.
"A gypsy doesn't need some."
"You're driving me crazy," He said longingly, pressing light kisses from the crook of her neck to the end of her shoulder. "And you're wrong, wrong, wrong…"
She smiled lazily, her head nestled on his shoulder, eyes closed, and slight dimples on her cheeks. He pressed his lips here for a time, before continuing his way south. His kisses were like flickering flames licking her skin, and it made her feel hazy.
"Are you going to protest?"
A sudden thought came to him and he grew stiff. The hand left the breast as the other stayed on her belly. The fingers drew her jaw, and he turned her face sharply to him.
"Did… someone touch you?"
She froze. Her eyes glared, the emerald turning dark against him, yet still filled with desire.
"Would it change something to your love if there was?"
"Scarlett!"
She sighed, relaxing against him. Her figure became limp on him, adjusting to his shape so closely he almost groaned from the frustration of their moves stilling.
"No. No, there isn't. This community… They're very protective of their own. And they've accepted me as their own. Surprisingly."
"Oh, really?" He mused. "Well, that'd be the first time I lay with a gypsy…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"If you continue talking like that, you'll be laying with no one."
He did what he was told, yet his lips continued their language of love, and so did his hands. She hummed, her hands sliding from his hair to the blades of his shoulders.
"Do you… do you still like me now?" She said. "Without my hair?"
He was tempted to laugh. Scarlett with long hair was a delight, a straight, black river, soft and flagrant, on smooth, creamy way lightened by the green of her eyes.
Here, the strands around her face were barely grazing her collarbones, and, to the side, the cut was almost straight, a soft descend from the back of the head, much shorter, to these strands. It somehow made her face look longer and younger, like a mischievous pixy, instead of the enchantress he knew.
Twisting one long strand between her fingers in a self-consciousness that surprised him, she looked at him through thick lashes and bit her lower lip. Yet it stretched in a coquettish way that did not fool him.
"I… couldn't bear to cut the strands of the front… You gripped too tight and too high, and I thought there was no time to lose, so…"
He chuckled.
"My darling, don't be silly. You are beautiful and you know it… And hair can grow back anyway if you don't like it."
"I thought you wouldn't like it. You were always so… fond of them."
He smirked.
"Weren't you supposed to give up on me, darling?"
Her mouth pursed a little in a pout, her eyes shining with a plead that was his to answer.
"Rhett, don't tease me…"
"Oh, I'm fond of you… very, very fond…"
He kissed her again to prove it, got rid of the remaining garments that separated them, and when her naked body pressed against him, there was no doubt to have.
He petted her and she meowed, wriggling slightly under his touch. He followed the direction of her desire, examining each one of her reactions until finally, he found a sweet spot to lay his hand on. Her knees soon buckled, and he followed her on the floor, his lips and hands more urgent, insistent. Her hips danced on him, pressing on him back and forth until finally, he decided to grant her what she wanted.
He entered her slowly, welcomed by her warmth and sighs, and came back to it again with that same pace, smiling at her attempts to change it. Completion would come, love, he thought. Yet on my terms. On my terms…
And then she moaned loudly, her back arching and nails scratching his back, one hand sneakily slipping between them, touching him, and it was the end of him.
He pounced on her like an unleashed panther, and in his gestures, which had been smooth and gentle, there was now something wilder, rougher, tingled with a hint of anger that he had tried to conceal for too long, a sweet cruelty that mixed pleasure with pain, the pain of having thought he had lost her, the pain of her hiding from him that long. He could not say anything. Could not think. He could only feel, hear her meows becoming cries and his growls roars, the collision of their flesh, and smell the scent of their arousals mixed together.
He wanted to push her to her limits, over the edge as she always did him, and push he did, over and over. There was the hill she led him on, with the wind howling around them, and the sea storming underneath. He felt the salt of it, on him, on her, the swift rush of his blood in his veins.
Don't leave me, he wanted to cry, his heart thumping in his chest. Stay into my arms, jump with me. Let me lead you there.
He pressed her back against his chest and prepared himself for the fall.
And when he finally did, it was like waves washing over them, filling their skins with exhilaration and goosebumps. He had conquered it, he thought with the glee of a man having survived drowning. He had conquered it, and now it was his, all his.
Yet, when he touched earth, a sudden cold came over him and he doubted.
For a moment, he thought he had taken too much of her, given her too much. She stayed still, her back on him, trembling violently. His heart throbbing painfully, he turned her softly, carefully, his hands cradling her beloved face to meet her eyes. She was breathing harshly, dark pupils conquering the green, and when the hardened tip of her breasts touched his chest, she said his name with want and put her arms around his neck.
He took a sharp intake of air and reciprocated her embrace, burying his nose on the crook of her neck, where the scent was stronger.
How full his heart, that she was accepting him, even the rougher, wilder side of him! How delightful that she seemed to revel in it and still wanted him!
They stayed silent for a time, snuggled fiercely on the floor until Scarlett decided it was comfier to lay her head on his chest, just where his heart beat. Her disheveled hair formed a dark cloud around her, and he smoothed it lazily with one hand, his gaze on the woman he adored.
"You've asked me if someone else touching you would change my love. I thought it was obvious."
"Nothing was ever obvious with you," She sighed, her fingers sliding down his chest, playing with the hair in there. She paused, then continued with a soft voice. "I was waiting, you know. At Tara. I didn't know…"
"Didn't know what?"
"Didn't know if you still loved me."
Raising on his elbows, he tried to take a better look at her face, but she stayed stubbornly still.
"What made you think so?"
"Well… You've said such terrible things, the last time…. And you did curse me at my own funerals…"
He sighed. Words came at the tip of his tongue, about the hurtful words she had sent him back, words that weren't even hers, yet deciding otherwise. Instead, his face smoothed, unreadable, and she blinked and narrowed her eyes.
"You still have trouble understanding complex emotions, my dear."
How could he even begin to describe the state he had been in, the darkness surrounding him, in him, urging him to surrender to his cruelest instincts? Now was not the time. He couldn't even think about these days without hers, did not want to think about it.
Her eyes raised sharply, her lips pursed with all the outrage of an offended divinity, and he wanted to laugh.
"Well, master of complexity, so much complex the term must have been invented for him, how can you explain such a thing?"
He kissed her brow, then the tip of her nose and grinned.
"Madness, honey. Being without you drives me mad."
"And being with me drives you also mad."
"A sweet kind of madness," He said, and his eyes were filled with mirth. He sighed, seeing she would not let it go. "No, Scarlett. Nothing would change my love. It is here to stay, I fear."
She chuckled, snuggling with delight in his arms.
"Yet, the one who touches you is dead. The one who hurts you is dead."
"Oh, Rhett!" She cooed, very much pleased by the possessiveness in his words. "Do you truly think I would dress up like that if it had happened? Did you look closely at my skirt? Or… the inner pocket of my waistcoat?"
With a charming little gesture, she sat and pointed at the garments, revealing their secrets. He followed her, his arms around her and his chin on her head, grinning fondly at her enthusiasm.
"Oh. Quite lethal, my dear. If you manage to get closer."
Her eyes glinted teasingly.
"Well, you're quite close…"
"My dangerous little cat, unsheathing her claws to the world…" He smiled tenderly, kissing the tip of her fingers. "You think you are quick enough?"
"I think so. Do you want to try me?"
He laughed lightly,
"Oh, Scarlett… Where did your false modesty go? I'm beginning to miss it."
"Liar."
"Oh, it had its moments," He stated, shrugging. "But I think I can find a way to make you blush again. Scratch me a little more, my love…"
"Rhett!"
Playfully, she tried to push him away, hitting his chest lightly with her long and fine hands, slightly freckled by her travel under the sun.
"Oh, stop it, you abusive woman. Let me kiss you again," He did so, pressing his lips against her a long time as if he was savoring the instant, before grinning and tickling her cheek with his mustache. "There, now I'm all better, all cured…"
She giggled.
"Oh, stop, yourself! You're talking to me like you do with the children!"
"Oh, I'm quite glad they are not here at this precise moment, my dear."
He grinned lazily against her and she giggled once more, pushing him away lightly so that she could see his expression. Her eyes twinkled with the greedy mirth of a cat that had licked its cream wipe clean.
"How are they?"
"Fine. They miss you. They'll be overjoyed when they'll see you."
"And I missed them too… So much."
"And not me?" He protested lightly, dramatically pressing her hand on his chest. "My, Scarlett, you're breaking my heart."
"Oh, you rascal! You know I did!"
He looked at her with gleaming, seeking eyes, his love like a strong flame that threatened to burst from his body as he found what he was looking for.
"I know. Oh, yes… I know."
He kissed her again, and they shared the warmth once more, their bodies colliding with less urgency than before, yet the same thirst they tried to satisfy. When the noises of the party began to fade, they stayed in each other's arms, the rhythm of their hearts the only music they wanted to hear. The logs had turned to ashes in the fireplace, yet there were still some embers burning.
"So… what are you going to do?" Scarlett said finally, breaking the silence.
"My pet," He said tenderly, spreading kisses on the edge of her shoulder. "Don't burden yourself with such things… I'll take care of it."
Her body stiffened a fraction of seconds, her eyes away. Yet her face gave nothing away, and soon the lids closed when she felt the intoxicating pressure of his lips on her skin as they went up along her throat, until they reached the junction between her jaw and the lobe of her ear.
"And… I suppose I'll have to wait for you and stay hidden with the children?"
"For a time. Then it'll be alright. Just like before, when there was only you, me, and the children. I promise you."
She stayed silent a moment, her eyes closed, and he looked at her, a bit questioning. He laid his forehead on hers and waited. There was something that he couldn't identify yet, something that worried him in this silence, and he waited, his eyes on her lips.
"… Yes, Rhett."
He sighed with relief and pressed her more tightly against him. Battle-weary for the day, he allowed himself to close his eyes and believe it would all go according to plans.
Yet, when he opened them again, a chill crept through a banging window and ashes laid cold in the fireplace. A thick cover had been put on him, yet there was no Scarlett in sight. He raised up abruptly and looked around, his heart jumping to his throat.
There was nothing for him in the room now. Nothing but a piece of paper on the chessboard, put under the piece of the king.
.
'Rhett,
You might not agree with what I'm doing. And what I may do. But I want you to know. No matter what, I love you. You and the children… You are my world, and you know how I tend to be when it comes to what I consider mine. I can't be the queen to your king (yes, I'm sure that's your middle name, don't you ever deny it!) if it means turning a blind eye to everything that is happening. Not anymore. I've seen, I've done too much to stay aside like you would wish me to do now.
I know you will worry for my safety, as I did when it came to you, too many times. I understand what it's like. But it's something I have to do. And that's something you will need to understand yourself.
You've told me once you wanted my heart and my mind. There, you have it. But I'm sure now you don't think of it as something to wish for from what I've gathered, for it is not something you can pet and indulge when you feel like it. It fights, whether it is for you or by your side. And as much as I'd like to be by your side, I see no way it can go well for both of us in the present state, and for the children as well. I am too deeply involved, it is not something that can be stopped.
Give my love to the children, tell them I'll do everything to get back to them, to get back to us.
We are alike, my love. We'll meet again. You will have to trust me. If you don't want to anymore, you're free to make a new life and I'll have only myself to blame for losing you…
But if you can't now but still want me, then you have to trust that I will do anything to survive, just like I know you will do the same. Honor and glory never suited us if it meant we had to starve or die. It's a gamble I have to take.
Don't you dare try to prove me wrong, you contrarious man, by putting your life in jeopardy! Keep your piracies to other things, I beg of you.
Forever
Your Scarlett.
PS: I fear, my dear, you'll have to pay more attention to your purse. Some persons (though very well-intentioned, in fact) could easily put their claws on it.'
.
He cursed loudly.