Hello everyone, and happy Valentine's Days to you! I hope you are taking care of yourself and your loved ones.

Here's one chapter, and I hope you will like it.

Good reading!

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Chapter 40

This was the moment for reunions, and once Scarlett found Rhett and the children again, there was another she was apprehending. She had talked to Pansy about it. Yet, the subject was delicate, and she could see her friend was reluctant, and her statements were sometimes contradictory, conflicted, and it was difficult to know the truth from it.

One thing was sure: there were two Tara: one that belonged to the dreams of her childhood, and one, forbidden, jealously kept, that she had barely glimpsed.

Prissy, for all her good soul, could not really tell her about it. Scarlett could see it, especially since she was charged with the care of the two orphans. She was glad Rhett had made sure her former servant could find a house of her own, and continued to help her. It was one good deed she was not sure she would have known exactly how to proceed.

Yet, stayed Pork. Gentle, loyal Pork, who had known her father before Tara, had assisted him in the building of it, and stayed until the end bound to the family like a true guardian angel. Pork, discrete, left behind without a thought, yet always remembered in the end, so indispensable.

He deserved more than that, Scarlett knew it, and she was determined to give it to him, if only she could have answers to her questions!

After the children were tucked into bed, she gestured Rhett to wait for her, and he understood. That time of the evening had always been Pork's to take, when he could allow himself a break, and the indulgence of a cigarillo, which now had been provided regularly by Rhett who knew of this habit. It was a time when, at Tara, he used to tell stories to the children of the house, and Scarlett remembered with aching fondness the moments when, as a child, she had forced little Carreen out of her bed to hear some.

Suellen was never asked, for Suellen would always tell.

A memory long forgotten with the horrors of wars, but that now came back with a sting.

Silently, her steps hesitant yet light, she went outside, in the terrace where she found him leaning on a balustrade, his right foot pressing one of the middle wooden bar. She waited a little for him to notice her, unsure how to proceed.

But when he turned back, she had no doubt.

"Ah done know it, Miss Scarlett!" His brown, loving eyes were alit and he opened his arms. "Ah knew you be alive! Ah… Ah felt it! In mah own old bones, Ah done knew it!"

With a smile, she jumped in, feeling like a child again, and cried with joy. Laughing fondly, Pork lightly tapped her back and told her not to, but it only worsened, and soon, he began to cry as well.

When eventually, the crying jag stopped, they settled on the steps of the terrace, and watched the stars quietly, thinking of a place where they used to shine so bright.

"Tell me about Tara, Pork," She finally said.

"Wat do ye want me to say bout Tara, Miss Scarlett? Ye know everiting bout Tara."

"No, I don't. Tell me about the Tara you did not want me to see. The Tara that did not belong to the O'Haras."

He looked at her a long time in a long, thoughtful gaze and told her. He told her about his dreams, about his life as a slave in the previous plantation he worked in, how he was whipped, his friends tortured and left without a will of their own. He told her about how he tried to escape, and how his intelligence had not escaped his previous owner, who intended to use him, and how he managed to trick him into putting his life on the stake one fortunate day when Gerald O'Hara was looking for a home and for a dream as well. He told her of his plans of using the naivety of that Irish immigrant, to make sure some of his friends and family lived a better life in a plantation of their own, that they could control as they wished. Gerald O'Hara would be a foil, he thought, and for him to be a better foil, he needed a wife that would give him more credibility in that role. A man that would think of himself as a slave-owner, but that would be just a puppet on strings.

It saddened Scarlett to hear her father being described like that, and she almost protested. But then, she could feel the affection in Pork's tone, and she realized there was more to come in the story. So instead, she asked softly:

"And what about Mother?"

"Ye mother be a go'd woman. She be born slaver, and stayed slaver, cannot blame her for being born so. A go'd woman though she be dat, but sad, so sad. She be needed for de illusions, as dat scoundrel Wilkerson, and in return, we done make show of obeyin' her, kept her illusion alive. She be go'd. If she remarked aniting by it, she never said.

"Yet, an illusion, we did live in one. We done tink it was better, a clever trick. Yet, in de end, we be still slaves, acted like slaves, dough tinking we be not. De world be still de same, even if dere be no chains. Dat's what we seen wen yer fader once whipped a boy for his horse. It be… like shatterin glass…"

He gulped a moment, caught in the remembrance, then continued.

"Wen he did dis, Ah done wanted to kill him. Yet, he be lookin at me wit horror, and dat was wen Ah knew. He be never manipulated. He done know it. And wen dat oder boy escaped and be almost found, and dat he be talkin for him… Dat's when ah know he be mah friend, not just de hollow master Ah wanted him to be."

Scarlett's mind buzzed like a bee without a hive. All that she thought she knew, the foundations that she had thought unbreakable, yet that she had felt with time crackling and deteriorating… There was no denying no it was a ruin, if it had ever existed. An illusion, when she had mocked again and again those that lived in it.

Little by little, the words came to her, at first without a sense at all, before the connections were slowly made, and she tried to get rid of that feeling of powerlessness that was taking over her. She should have asked Rhett to be there with her, she thought. She would have been stronger. He would have known what should be done.

She wondered what her father would have done. What would he have done to Pork, the slave that helped him get the life he wanted?

What was the right thing to do?

Land is the most important thing, Pa used to say. Yet, now, that land was not hers to give, even if it felt right. Pork was family, after all. However, he wasn't her only family.

"I shouldn't have given Tara to Suellen. I should have…"

"No, Miz Scarlett, it be no use. I no wat you be tinking. But Tara be gone now. Tara… Twas a dream, long gone, tainted wen ah tought it kudent and Ah kain turn back. I kain turn back and see dem, agin, and tink, why I be not wit dem? But it never be wat it was before. You kain give it to me. It be a poisoned gift, widout de friends Ah done make in de way."

"Then what do you want, Pork?"

"Ah done want to see mistah Gerald's doter be happy. So den Ah can tell mah friend she be happy, and Ah was ever so good ter mah promise."

"Oh, Pork!"

She cried in his arms, and it was like her Pa was dead again. Or, now that she thought of it, as if she had discovered she had another father, and learned he was dying at the same time.

A little later, remembering Pansy's words, and the wishes of independence expressed in the many meetings they had gone, she suggested to offer him a house or at least money to buy it as he wished, that would be his alone, and his wife's, if she ever wanted to join her husband again. Yet, the offer was refused most violently, and Pork and Scarlett felt distraught for days, the first thinking she did not want him there anymore, and the other for being rejected when she thought she was doing something good. It took much of Rhett's diplomacy and patience for the two to set things straight again, but it was only later Scarlett understood her mistake.

After she told him, Rhett said it was no use, and that she had to respect his wishes, and not impose what she thought was right to others. He chose his fate, her lover told her, and now it was her burden to carry, that man who linked his happiness to hers, to them. It was now their duty, as a family, to preserve the tranquility of that old, clever man who had wanted to build a utopia by using the fortune and the naivety of a white newcomer, found a friendship instead, and now wanted to spend his last days peacefully, taken care of by his friend's daughter. What might seem like chains to some may not seem like that to others.

'Like love,' She said then, and he looked at her with soft eyes.

'Yes,' he replied, 'Like love. And the old man does love you, Scarlett. It would be a cruel thing to send him away if he doesn't want it."

She nodded and smiled, leaning more into the embrace of the man she loved.

Their life was beginning, and it was high time she was making her own part in that house. Happiness was her new mission, and she was determined to succeed.

…

It was with the utmost curiosity New-Orleans learned Mr. Rhett Butler, infamous adventurer and known hedonist, had finally found the governess he was looking for. The suspense was at its peak, and the idle young men of the city, bored with the lack of activity of the last few days, found themselves quite intrigued by the discretion of such an affair, that had been displayed so openly before. Some of them had sisters that had tried and failed, and now these sisters were also dying to know the fortunate (or rather unfortunate) chosen one.

Then, the Butler's Hearth, as had been baptized the house the captain bought, finally opened for a party everyone would remember.

After all, now that that poor (though not in terms of money, thank God!) widower did not have to take care of the children on his own, he was free to find new bonds and the one he would choose may prove to be very, very fortunate indeed.

And how handsome he was, how strongly-built and good-natured he seemed, with that pleasant smile on his face! Really, these persons that had said he seemed cruel and mocking hadn't seen him like that!

Then entered the governess in question. Miss Catherine Bertha.

She was very… ordinary, some tried to say, though they did not manage to persuade themselves of it. She was wearing a very lovely (too lovely for a common governess) two-piece ball gown of deep, vibrant green silk with trims in black velvet ribbons and little motifs delicately sewn at each side, complimenting the thin waist and the hips. On the subtle decolletage, there was a lovely emerald brooch that glinted like a wink.

But what were even more striking was her vibrant green eyes and her naturally red lips in a very expressive and charming face that seemed ready to laugh at anything that would be said to her.

By seeing her, one young man swore very much spontaneously she could wear curtains for all he cared, for it would suit her anyways.

There, some swore they saw an amused smile on both the employer and the employee, as if they shared a joke of their own. But it had to mean nothing. After all, the girl was there for a week.

Another surprise came when they realized the widower's adopted daughter tended to call her new governess "mama". But then, the matrons and tender-hearted girls shook their head in fond pity. The girl needed a mother, and Mr. Butler had a long dissolute past. It was time for him to finally settle down.

After all, once married, it would be easy to be obeyed and visibly adored by these children, if even that little governess could do it as she did consistently through the party.

What was also very surprising was the tender familiarity between her and the black servant. But then some observed cheekily that the low ones tended to stay with the low.

Yes, it was a good party, with many food and drinks, and good music, and these little havocs that were still very convenable, like a little group deciding to try on a costume contest.

And then came the waltz, and it was where hell went loose.

Because then, Mr. Butler did not invite any of the young ladies that craved to do so with him. Oh, no.

He invited his governess.

And with (calculated, some peahens said maliciously) modesty and surprised, she accepted.

More shocking after that was the revelation that they danced divinely together, as if they had done it their own life. There was a sort of savage sensuality in that dance, yet softened by grace and what seemed to be a tender complicity.

But it could not be that. It was a governess, for God's sake, some persons said. New-Orleans was certainly quite dissolute during the summertime, and it was generally accepted, but they were not there to stay, and anyway, it was not the season!

The young women in age and their mothers, and some widows in search of a new husband to add to their list, were very much irritated by that little governess who did not know her place, who should have stayed in the shadows, and let their better in ranks stand out. Another one of these governesses who tried to seduce their employers. One had to stand up to her and protect the poor Captain Butler of such a harpy.

Yet, soon, many young bucks declared themselves enamored with that new, incredibly attractive governess, who hid a passion unlike any other behind a demure and modest appearance, and swore they would protect her from that old satyr of Rhett Butler.

Yet, seeing them together, one had to wonder who the hunter was, and who was the prey in the game they were playing. Or if there was any at all.

…

"One… Two… Three…"

Counting loudly, her head resting on the tender bark of a tree, Scarlett… Oh, pardon, Miss Catherine Bertha listened with a smile at the eager steps of her children on the grass behind her, and the little gasps of Ella who, excited by the game, seemed to have forgotten how to breathe properly.

Oh, to be able to play with them outside! To discover places in that new home, like that little paved way bordered by cypresses, that led to a lovely belvedere, or that tiny pond with clear green water and lovely white flowers raising their heads to the sun as if to say hello!

So many places to hide, to see, and feel…

And Rhett being in his office, working supposedly on some business for the bank.

Work, work and always work! And here, she thought he wanted to be with her!

No, it was unfair to think so, she corrected herself. She might be disappointed, but she could see now it was not really because of him. She admired his cunnings, admired his successes with as much fierceness as if they were her own. It was because of her own envy. She too wanted to work. She loved her children, she really did. But she missed the thrill of one business well done in the morning, the satisfaction of knowing she earned her money through her cunnings. She missed knowing that money would make her folk live, and live well, and that if one day she found herself alone, she might be able to continue living.

But it was fine. It was very fine. She would bide her time.

Though she was not very patient.

Needless to say, Scarlett felt very much like a child again, and wanted to take advantage of it. Over were the rainy days, the doubts and the fear! She would live, and love, with her children and her man.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Thus, began her chase. But as she was about to begin by the sweet odorant bushes of magnolia that bordered the house, two arms caught her, and she shrieked in surprise, before realizing whose arms it was.

"Let me go, you brute!"

"Brute? I'm not the one hitting you," Rhett laughed, trying to avoid her wrathful claws. "Oh, and you do scratch!"

"Serve you right, for surprising me like that!... Oh, Rhett!" She giggled. "I thought you had to work…"

"It's playtime for me too. And when I saw you, unaware, irresistible prey leaning against a tree, waiting to be caught with her eyes closed and frame lightened by the sun…"

Her hips swayed when she felt his fingers at the hollow of her back.

"That's a pretty picture. But I am supposed to be the one hunting."

"I see that, your attacks are very effective," He commented laconically. "Can't we both do that? Fie, my dear, that won't do."

Tables turned quickly as he raised and tipped her over. She let out a surprised squeal.

"And what if I say I'm the panther that catches the pretty huntress unaware?"

He leaned in, kissed lightly her cheek, and put his own on hers, his breath warm against her ear.

"What if I say that you're a panther too, my mate, and that it's the season, my love… why not letting nature take its course, then?"

He skidded kisses along her jaw, and she thought she could see tiny sparkles glistening down her fluttering black lashes.

"Mother!"

Rhett sighed loudly, while Scarlett moaned in embarrassment and frustration, her cheeks red and eyes glinting darkly.

"Oh, I do remember hearing that cry once. Am I to be always thwarted by Wade Hampton?"

She smiled.

"The poor darling wants to protect his mother from scoundrels, that's it."

He nuzzled his face against her, humming thoughtfully.

"Scoundrel meaning me."

"Of course, meaning you."

"They have to learn to share."

"You have to learn to share."

His laugh went out of his indecent, sensuous lips like a disease, and she was soon very caught up with it.

"What's the good of being middle-aged if I can't be selfish once in a while… why are you laughing ?"

"You doing as if you've waited to be middle-aged to be selfish!"

"Oh, you little…"

He was about to tickle her, but then came the unfortunate revelation that they were not quite alone anymore.

The children, alerted by their mother's cry, had left their hideout, and had run towards them.

Wade was the first to realize what they may find, when he saw a hint of Rhett's shoe coming from the bush. Blushing, he tried to divert his younger sister, but to no avail.

"Go back, Ella. They're being disgusting again."

"Oh? Disgusting how? Like that book in daddy's library?"

Alerted, Scarlett pushed definitely Rhett from her and dusted her dress as she emerged from the bush. She glared at Rhett, who she saw with envy managed to appear still elegant and dignified, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Don't tell me you let Ella go through your library?"

"Well, it seems my governess can't seem to prevent them from looking at them."

She tilted her chin upward.

If she had to be honest, and Rhett certainly knew it, she was not really the best of governesses, or at least when one had to consider what governesses were supposed to do. Too many times, she had stopped the class short for a long, very long playtime outside. Especially the Literature class, that she found very much boring. But then, who could blame her? She had so many things to catch up with her children, and she was not about to spoil the mood by cluttering their mind with things they may never have use of anyway.

"I must say in her defense she's been very distracted lately. The trouble of having such a bully as employer."

And to her defense, he was incredibly talented in making her forget everything that was not him.

"Bully, me?" He put on an air of outrage and, leaning toward her, whispered in her ear, his low, purring voice with the accent of Charleston thickened by desire sending thrills like little ants going down from the lobe to her spine. "Come here, vixen, and see how I bully you…"

"Mama! Wade pulled my hair!"

"That's not true! She's a big liar!"

"I'm not big!... And I'm not a liar!"

Rhett sighed. Scarlett laughed lightly, a pleasant laugh from the deep of her throat. She had not the heart to be irritated at them, poor dear things.

"Children…" Rhett began.

"Wade, stop this right now, and Ella, come here, you're all dirty now!"

She fussed over her daughter, but there was nothing to do about the big green stains that were all over her dress. And in the end, the roles were reversed as Ella inspected her mother.

"Oh, mama, you're all disheveled, with leaves all in your hair…Was he threatening your honor, mama?" Scarlett's little girl smiled widely and turned to her brother, with sparks in her eyes. "Then Wade, you must defend it!"

Scarlett shook her head in apparent disapproval, but her grin, too wide, announced already a laugh.

"Yes, Wade. I do believe you must," Taking two wooden sticks on the ground, Scarlett's man threw one to his son and took the pose. "En garde!"

Wade's eyes glinted as he mimicked the man who had always been his father in more ways than one, and even more.

To him too, the childish, happy atmosphere seemed to have taken a hold of him, and it gave Scarlett joy to see him like that. It felt as if she had never seen him that happy, and knowing she was the cause of it was very much a delight by itself.

They made quite a show of a dual, until finally, frustrated with Rhett's many dodging, Wade decided he had enough and charged with a battle cry, hitting him square on the chest. The body of the older man fell suddenly, and Scarlett faltered as she heard the sound of it on the floor.

"Rhett!"

"Daddy!"

Her heart leaping, she jumped at his side, noting with distress his closed eyes and lack of response to her touch and voice.

At her right, Wade was shocked, and trembling.

"I… didn't want to…"

Scarlett was about to reprimand him, but then, she was swiftly interrupted by a loud laugh coming from the very man she was worrying about.

"Wade, son, I think it's time you finally take some lesson in fencing. That coup was a little clumsy, but it has potential."

Scarlett huffed and hit him.

"Oh, you scoundrel! You're not even hurt!"

Rhett laughed, his arms around girl and woman, and brought them down with him.

"Ella," He said tenderly. "What if you picked some flowers to bring back in the house? Wade could protect you in the way from the bad wolves…"

The girl's eyes widened in fear. "There are wolves?"

"Yes," He continued, and Wade glared at him, seeing he would have no choice but to look after his sister. "But only Wade can make them go away."

And so began their mission, with Ella, so very full of energy and a very grumpy older brother who mumbled about the inconvenience of parents.

Rhett sat straighter on the grass, enjoying the slight burn of the sun on his skin.

"I do believe Little Ella finally caught some of your mischief, my dear."

"How you do run on. I'm not dramatic enough to suggest a duel. That must be your part."

Humming lovingly, she rested her head on his lap while he caressed her hair idly. The dark strands had grown again, the smaller ones at her back reaching her shoulder blades, allowing her to equalize just as it was decent to do. In later years, she might say what decided her to go back to normal life was the length of her hair, allowing her to play the lady, she thought with amusement.

"By the way, dear, I made quite the discovery this morning, in the newspaper."

"Fiddle-dee-dee. You always told me it was a bad thing to read the newspaper."

"Generally yes. I do prefer when you don't read it, dear, for then it would give you ideas in your head, and I don't like the idea of you being tortured by so-called existential questions."

"Just say you prefer I think only of you and what I can do to make you happy."

"I prefer you think only of me, and be happy with me, that to be sure. It certainly is easier," He grinned as he handed her the newspaper he had kept in the pocket of his jacket. "Though this new may satisfy your vanity."

At first, she could not understand why he was showing her the section about the book reviews. Trying to understand, she read a few words, but was soon enough bored by the grandiloquence of it, with the many references and complicated words in Latin and German.

Kelsey A. Whils. What a boring name anyway.

With a grin and armed with a pen, Rhett pointed the letters of the name and changed their places. Ashley Wilkes.

Her eyes widened.

"My dear, it seems your little gamble had paid off, actually."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," She said innocently, though her grin was far too satisfied for that. "But it seems that Kelsey A. Whils finally found something he was good at." She straightened, her lips stretching even more. "Come on, say it, Rhett. I was right and you were wrong."

"I wouldn't go that far. There's still time to prove me right."

"You infuriate me."

"I'm certainly glad to know it works."

There was no arguing with him, for he always knew how to charm his way into his heart, and make her forget she was ever angry with him.

But then again, she had learned that too, to his misfortune.

She once saw him flirting with a rich and pretty widow, that had loudly remarked governesses were stupid and useless anyway, a work for spinsters that had no charms for themselves.

He'd laugh at her when she remarked on it, jealous and very much offended by that comment, but laughed a little less when few times after, he saw her coming back home after a day of shopping with almost an army of enamored young bucks carrying her bags while she was fluttering sweetly her lashes at them.

When he remarked on it later, she said very innocently that they were no gentlemen, yet that he should be proud of such a charming wife that could still attract so many, just like she was proud to be the woman of such a handsome scoundrel. At that, he only could nod with an amused smile, and urge her inside.

…

Certainly, Miss Catherine Bertha was a mystery.

Offers of marriages came for her, but she would always refuse with an air of sincere confusion, telling them she thought of them as the young brothers she never had, and wished she had. Many, she sent to other girls, and in return, the matriarchs who benefitted from it began to see her in another way.

After a time, it became very much obvious to the most serious and practical ladies of New-Orleans that the women available and very willing to marry Captain Butler had no chance, especially with the last fiasco of the widow who tried and was quickly turned down. They would have to count on that petite and charming woman in the long term, and why not, take her under their wing.

It did not hurt that the young woman seemed to have good sense and gave good ideas about businesses that surprised the ones that had had to learn it and still struggled with it during their few encounters.

Of course, it had to come from Captain Butler. He was known to be quite good at it, after all, so it had to be his influence.

Thus came into the mind of some of the matrons that maybe it was a good idea to push her into her employer's arms, so that then, he would be much more easier to persuade to help.

And what a delightful scandal it would bring!

This was why Miss Catherine Bertha was quickly invited to a sewing session, and, to her surprise, discovered the Secret Association of Working Ladies, or SAWL.

…

"A Secret Association of Working Ladies!" Rhett laughed in the haven of their bedroom when she came back in the evening. "So, this is your new project! Why the secret?"

"You're a skunk," Scarlett complained lightly, her arms around his shoulders as she sat on his lap. "You say that because you're a man, and it's always easier for men to do it."

"I don't deny it. But I do believe that whole "secret" is more that they like working, yet they do not dare to tell it to the world, and prefer to gather in secret for the thrill of thinking themselves superior."

"Maybe so," She grinned. "They want me to seduce you, so that you can give me more pieces of advice that would help them."

"Oh, because you're still making them think it is me that is giving the advices?"

"Well, you do help, sometimes," She teased, before shrugging. "And I suppose they think me seducing you would lead you to give more money and contacts, of course."

"Oh? And how do you intend to do this?"

"Like this…" Softly, she put her lips on the tip of his nose, before following the line of his cheekbone to his ear. "And this…"

He snorted, gathered her close and stroke her cheek.

"Interesting. Though I'm sure you can find other arguments."

As if it was needed. Nevertheless, they each found some of their own, insisted, pressed, argued until somehow they lost their breath, and all that was left was the ached bliss of the aftermath, and their sweaty, naked skins on the bed.

Her head on her lover's chest, Scarlett hummed and rubbed lightly her cheek against him, quite out of arguments, yet still very willing to do so. Below her, Rhett let out a fond laugh, his nose breathing the intoxicating scent of his woman, never quite the same exactly, yet still known intimately by his heart who craved it, relished in its warmth and spice.

"Was it what you thought it would be," She said after a time. "when you said you would have loved me with as much tenderness a man could, if I only had let you?"

"It stayed on your mind a long time, didn't it?" He smirked, before sighing, his nose nuzzling her neck. "No. Not even close. You see, my dear, I never imagined I could be like that. I never thought I could love like that, nevermind that you could. There's… a softness in it I thought wouldn't work with me. And yet… With you, I find that life can be sweet."

With this adventure had come a complicity as there never had been between them, with both being at the same level for the first time, and accepting not to have the upper hand. They found out love was not about who had to surrender and who could claim the victory. It was a battle, yes, but they were on the same side, protecting each other's back, and if victory it was, it was for both of them. They still wore their battle scars, but it was not with bitterness anymore they pointed it to the other. It was with the pride of having survived a war that could have brought them down.

Yes, they had a tougher skin now, but they finally knew what was the more important.

"Strange to me how I've always thought of my love for you as my weakness, my Achilles' heel, and that you were like Delilah, waiting to catch me unaware to unman me, when now that you are here, by my side, I realize you were my strength all along, and that I was afraid to use it."

She looked at him and his faraway eyes, and tilted his head to bring him back to her.

"You've always been my strength, Rhett."

"Not your only one," He said, and he said it as if he regretted it.

"Well, I'm not your only strength too, Mr. Let-me-call-my-dubious-acquaintances-to-fix-it."

He snorted. "And here again you purposely misunderstand. But I guess that's fair. Love should not be something that prevents us from finding strengths through other bonds."

"Depends on these bonds, husband," She insisted, her cheeks puffing red. "Are you rethinking the terms of our deal? If so, then…"

"Darling, strength cannot be found in loveless trysts, and I already have my hands full with you and the children. I don't want to find it anywhere else. You are enough… and more than that."

"So are you," She said contently. She paused, humming softly, trying to make a music out of the beatings of his heart. "Yet… sometimes, I don't feel like I am a strength at all…"

"Oh, you are. But every strength needs to lean on another sometimes. Lean on me, my love."

"I was always leaning on you. You're quite comfortable to lean on, after all."

He chuckled. "Glad to know you like my chest as your pillow."

"Oh, very much so, very much so."

In her, she felt the echoes of her beating heart, strong as a kick in her tummy. It hurt a little, but she felt so happy she did not care.

She slept soundly, and he watched her for a moment. For three days since her return, he had not slept at all, staring at her unconscious form, marveling about her presence at his side. Soon, of course, he had to catch it up, but then it took time for him to get used to it, and there were moments like this when he was still very much amazed.

How he loved her. And she loved him. An eternity of loving her, and now he was loved in return, and could feel this love falling on him freely, without anything to hold them back.

She was sleeping late, these days, and was more fatigable. He knew she was trying not to show this, but he felt it, in the way her body faltered sometimes when she thought he was not looking. She was pale too, sometimes, and there were times when she wasn't really looking where her feet landed. It was something he could not have remarked on their short encounters, when the emotions were too strong, and they only wanted to take advantage of the time they had. But now, they had all the time in the world…

Or did they? The feeling of urgency was still there, in him, and in her too, and he did not really know how to get rid of it.

He dismissed it. He had always worried too much about this woman, and she had always landed on her feet, whether he did something or not.

They had been intimate many a times now, and it felt like they were trying to catch up on the time when they had been apart… No, much longer than that. He had relished in it, that physical intimacy he once thought would never happen but once in a dream, a dream from a time when he felt free and powerful, and she was still the careless and wild Southern Belle, with a childish want glinting in her eyes.

But now, he could see the disaster it would have brought, and the disaster it indeed did. Now, they were on the same page, their writing tightly interlaced, her hand in his, skin against skin.

He had been very prudent. He could not lose her now. He did not think he would survive if he did, and if the past repeated. So many months apart, with few visits they managed to slip by and by… It had prevented from truly thinking about how they would live together, for the more important question was at that time: when?

Their balance was great now: Scarlett and him, and Wade and Ella. Nothing had to change.

Nothing but one thing, that would definitely set the record straight.

He closed his eyes and held her closer, until some strands of her hair tickled his nose.

…

Yet, among all this happiness, there came something that clouded it, when Pansy once arrived, a panicked expression on her face, and announced to Scarlett she was pregnant, and with the wrong man.

The news shocked Scarlett, with a feeling she did not really know how to analyze. As if a candle had been lit once, to be quickly shut down by the wind. Yet, she quickly assured her support, and urged her to talk to Aren, a thing Pansy was not ready to do. On her quick talk, she was trying to say something about the importance of the cause she was engaged in, and how she couldn't stop, and how Scarlett had to keep the secret, or else she did not know what would happen.

That's when Scarlett realized her friend was afraid, completely terrified, and very tired.

Thus a very irritated Rhett came back home with the revelation he had to shelter for a few nights one woman he very much disliked and whose opinion was very important, with the even worst realization that she might monopolize Scarlett, or even try to persuade her into another adventure.

He had to act fast.

…

The first nights, he did not manage it, and Scarlett became even more flippant, which was not to appease him. Especially when he learned she had been wandering around with her friend around ill-reputed districts.

What was going on?

…

Scarlett was tired, and very much distraught. She had accepted to accompany Pansy to an abortionist. As a support. Because that was what friends did. Or so it seemed. So they had hidden themselves under dark caps and went to it.

Yet, the more she went closer to the building, the more she felt she might faint. From the clean, bright districts she had gone to, she was now wandering in the dirt, and the smell was suffocating.

Pansy said nothing. But when she faced the woman charged with the work, she broke down and changed her mind, and Scarlett had to silently escort her back.

They passed once in front of the Lalaurie house, and she had the displeasing impression of being watched.

To change her mind, she tried to put on a good face and tucked friend and children to bed with a same cheerful voice.

So when she finally faced Rhett who suggested her a night out at the opera, she accepted without actually thinking of it.

She did not even stop to realize that suggestion was made with a more hurried tone than usual.

…

She was waiting Rhett on the box he owned, oppressed by the heat and a tighter than usual corset, when suddenly, she heard the sound of music, and a deep, familiar, excellent bass, that was serenading a certain Catherine.

Oh, yes, she realized after a time. She was Catherine.

She leaned on the balustrade and met the eyes of one Rhett Butler very much satisfied with himself as he strummed a guitar and sang at the top of his voice.

Her heart soared.

"What on earth are you doing?"

He grinned.

"What does it look like I'm doing, honey? I'm trying to compromise you. I do remember once I said I'll stay around here and play a guitar under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice if you ever denied me. I'm not leaving anything to chance now!"

"Deny you? Compromise me? What are you going on about? Fiddle-dee-dee, you've already compromised me with more than a song in the open space!"

She almost slapped herself for her indiscretion. His black eyes twinkled at her.

Oh, why was it so hot in there?

"Oh, yes? Care to enlighten me, Miss Bertha?"

"Oh, you scoundrel…." She waved energetically at him. "Get back upstairs."

He grinned, gave the guitar back to the musicians, and climbed the stairs in a quick, eager way that suffered no obstacle.

It wasn't until later, when he finally faced her, she remembered this threat had been uttered during his proposal of marriage.

But then she shrugged. It was just a silly thing.

"Is here more proper for your selective sense of propriety, my dear?" He said, breaking her track of thoughts.

"I don't know. What are you going on about, exactly?"

That was when he knelt down.

"Marry me."

Here we go, she thought. He had already forgotten the obvious in favor of something more dramatic. Sympathetically, she put her hand on his.

"We're married already, silly man."

"I do believe we quite broke the 'until death does you apart' part, my dear,"

She blinked, froze, then realized.

Oh, indeed, he was playing with her, but then there was something real to it she had not anticipated.

"You mean to tell me you've been… making love to me without us being bound by God? How shameful!"

Amused, he raised an eyebrow at her attempt of a shocked expression, betrayed by the glistening of her green eyes.

"I mean to tell you we've been making love with no other consent than ourselves. Did it feel any different?"

Teasingly, she tipped her chin with a finger, one corner of her lips twitching upward.

"Wait… Now, I'm beginning to remember that somehow I felt something wrong and wicked in it," He tickled her mercilessly, a wide, amused grin enlightening his features. "Alright, alright. No, it wasn't different. How strange… Yet, why are you asking me again, if it doesn't matter?"

"I never said it doesn't matter. It's a way to show to the world than you are mine, and I am yours, that we are united and I do not intend on letting you go again."

His breath was warm on her skin, and she shivered with the contentment of owning and being owned by that man, that she loved with all her heart. He had tricked her a great deal, oh yes! But she forgave him all the same. Her head downward, she looked at him with adoration, not even daring to blink.

"Oh, to be looked by you like that…" He gasped, his throat dry as his fingers grasped the long-awaited box in his pocket. "I want to marry you again. Truly. And I promise to never keep anything from you this time, if you promise you do the same to me. You are my equal, and I want us to be one in this."

Her eyes widened as she looked at the ring he handed her.

It was a magnificent engagement ring, with a pear cut emerald crowned by five paved diamonds that shined at her like a promise of eternal love.

Watching it felt like falling in love again.

"Is this…"

His smile broadened.

"Yes."

She said nothing for a while, frozen in place and time, and he almost thought she would faint. She nodded softly, her mouth quivered, and nodded once again more firmly. Until she could not stop.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes!"

He laughed and caught her in his arms, as she was about to fall from her chair.

"Had I known I would get such a reaction, I would have done it much sooner!"

"That's your mistake, not mine!"

"Indeed, my dear. Indeed. But not anymore."

She took a step down, admiring the ring.

"Oh, Rhett, do put it on me! How long this darling thing had been waiting in your pocket? How did you…"

Suddenly, she stopped, and narrowed her eyes at him. The green flashed like an angry shooting star, and it made him chuckle.

"It's not glitter, is it? It's true gold."

His smile broadened.

"What do you think?"

"Oh, you rascal!"

"I'm just teasing you, my dear, don't scratch my eyes yet," He said, catching easily her wrathful fists. "Yes, it's the real thing. No trick. I lay bare and true to you. Well… figuratively," He smirked. "But I could..."

"Hush, you scandalous skunk. What if someone sees you?"

"I do think they'd be… impressed. And then it wouldn't surprise me if some curious little ladies are dreaming of me doing so. If we were in a book, I do believe I'll be the rake every woman is lusting after."

"You're so full of yourself I want to scream," He waggled his eyebrows, and she blushed even more in dismay. "Not like that, you skunk."

He snorted, yet it was a poor attempt at concealing the arrival of a bigger fit of laughter.

"Come on, Scarlett, you know you will anyway. So why not skip the opera, where you'll be bored and irritated, and come home, to bed right now, to take advantage of that wonderful little anger you feel for me right now?"

"No. I mean to start this well." She huffed, her pointed chin tilted upward. "And then, it is all you deserve, for… Oh, what were your exact words again? That's the price for being fond of me and getting your big hands on my… Well, I can't say money, can I?"

"No, but I still have my hands on you."

"How you are playing me so! Well, it won't work now, sir! I'll be bored, but you'll bear it!"

He whistled. "Alright, alright, my darling, soon-to-be sleeping snappish beauty, that will have your head soon leaning on my shoulder, your nose buried on my neck."

"I won't!"

"Oh, you will. Either way, what a bliss."

And indeed, in the middle of the show, it seemed he was proven right.

Fondly, he leaned towards her, his finger playing with the strand of hair that was dangling in front of her ear.

"See, I told you you would…"

Yet, she did not respond, and when he shook her lightly, her body fell from the chair like a rag doll.