Perfectly Natural
Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler was not a woman easily frightened.
She'd weathered isolation in a deserted Atlanta with only Prissy and an expectant Melly...delivering the latter's baby herself with the threat of invasion hanging over all of their heads.
She'd shot a Yankee on the stairs of Tara when he threatened to take her virtue. She could still recall the pale, proud face of Melanie applauding her gumption, sword in her shaking palm.
She'd bent in the sun-baked fields of her family's plantation, her fingers raw and calloused as she struggled to claw out a life after the war.
She'd married two men without a pinch of love in her heart for either.
And as formidable as some of these experiences had been to her southern belle sensibilities, she hadn't allowed fear a foothold.
Now, she stood trembling in her burgundy dressing gown outside of the study, her mind a hopeless jumble. She was positively terrified.
She was well aware that her character at times could be contradictory. She had been raised to simper, flirt, and use feminine wiles to get her way. She was showy and bold by society's standards, eliciting whispers from most in the polite circle. She had owned successful businesses rather than staying at home to mind a home and children. And yet, she was bitterly naive, unaware of what most other women considered simple and straightforward. She remained like a blushing maiden when Rhett spoke candidly of...well, anything that wasn't seemly (although her curiosity gnawed at her like a hungry dog with a bone when she hushed him.)
And here she was, desperate to share an honest, intimate, and most likely embarrassing moment with her husband of a few months.
She had almost summoned the courage to walk in when the dark-haired, honey-tongued man in question pulled open the doors.
In the weeks since their ceremony and glorious honeymoon in New Orleans, she had never felt more cherished or pampered. He had taken great care in ensuring her every comfort while they took in the sights and sounds of the beautiful city. It was as if all the cares of the world were suddenly thrown off by the solid, sure presence of the ex-blockade runner beside her.
Much to her surprise, Scarlett had discovered a real, deeply seated affection blooming within her for the man who had seen her through some of the most horrible and heartbreaking moments of her life. She welcomed his every advance while they toured, whether it was a hand at the small of her back in the bustle of people, the offer of his arm as they promenaded, a peck on the cheek (just because) and the heady rush of toe-curling kisses he reserved for when they were alone. Why she was nearly breathless with the memory!
She, in turn, had stolen every opportunity to reciprocate, her heart opening up in a way that was both alarming and exhilarating. In her previous two marriages, she'd never desired tenderness. What she'd had to endure as her wifely duty was quite enough.
But with Rhett, she readily gave in to expressions of affection. Of course, she never felt it proper to begin anything in the marital way with him but everyday embraces were a different story. Although she was still slow to initiate any such displays, she felt she was making progress at overcoming the prudishness that had been drummed into her since childhood.
But perhaps the discussion she wished to have was enough to shock even him?
"Ah, my dear Mrs. Butler! Whatever are you doing out here?"
Oh Lord, was she trembling? It was then that she noticed the frantic shaking of her fingers. Her chest gave a faltering thump at the concern and love in his shining eyes.
"I...well, no...it's just...you see..."
Relief twinkled in his gaze, his lips twitched upward in a smile. His palms reached easily for her chilled digits and enveloped their clammy coolness in his own comforting heat. "It must be somewhat serious to make you stutter so, Scarlett. And quite fetchingly if I might add. I am thoroughly intrigued. Won't you come in and share a nightcap so we can decipher your intended meaning?"
Before she knows it, she's ushered carefully into one of the armchairs at the fire, a brandy glass left to wait on the table beside.
Her head swims a little as Rhett replaces the decanter and sits opposite, a picture of complete relaxation.
God's nightgown! You mustn't faint. You've managed this far haven't you?
"Scarlett?"
Worry creeps into the utterance and he shifts slightly to capture her roaming eyes. "Why, you've gone white as a sheet. Maybe I should send for a doctor."
"No, please. I...I promise I'm perfectly alright. I just need a moment."
She can sense his observation as her eyes close and she fights to find some composure.
Stop it, you ninny! You do not fall to pieces over such a silly thing. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible.
It takes several moments, but finally, she can draw a breath and the hammering of her heart returns to a less frenzied pace. Her lashes flutter to take in the anxious gaze of her husband.
"I apologize, Rhett, for frightening you. It's only what I've come to talk to you about is...delicate...and I'm not sure how you're going to take it. And I don't want you to think less of me for even mentioning what I'm about to say and I'm so worried..."
Rhett quiets her breathy preamble with a light squeeze of her wrist. "There's no need to work yourself up, my dear. I can assure you that anything you wish to confide isn't worth the attack of nerves. What can I do to help make this easier?"
His tender inquiry parts her lips in an astonished 'o." He's all decency and understanding. And she's sure she's perfectly sinful in thinking as she is.
"Can you please let me ramble as I need? Or I'm sure I'll never get this out without putting Mammy's new petticoat to shame."
His encouraging nod opens her mouth like a dam and she floods the room with the most impassioned speech she's given since that ill-fated barbecue at Twelve Oaks.
"I feel like I might burst from the inside if I don't tell you everything, Rhett. I wish you could look into my heart, feel all the love I have for you. It's been building so steadily that I'm surprised I haven't bowed under the weight of it. It's an overwhelming, intoxicating, amazingly wonderful sensation and yet it terrifies me, Rhett. Because I've never known it before. I.. I always thought that I needed to protect myself from being that open and vulnerable with another person. But you've taken over the space so completely I don't know where you end and I begin. And I don't care!"
"I want to nurture and care for this love with every fiber of my being. I want to bathe you in the sensation until you know without a doubt that you are wholly accepted, loved, and wanted by me."
"And I do want you, Rhett. I want you in ways that a decent, God fearing woman wouldn't even contemplate saying aloud. I imagine being with you and my skin burns with desire. You pepper every waking moment. I'm sure I'll burn in hellfire for admitting all this to you but I wish for the freedom to show you my love in daylight hours not just after the sun finally sets. I want to please you wherever our passions rise without a thought of propriety or worry of servants poking their nosy heads in."
"I desire to know you so fully that I can anticipate your needs and meet them. I hope for a marriage so full to the brim with ardor that it makes all the hardened old goats of Atlanta blush and grow pea-green with envy. I want to be your wife, your temptress, your lover. And if that makes me a wanton woman I gladly take the brand. Because I would rather be yours entirely than only know you as other women know their husbands."
Humiliation at what she's so willingly shared hits with all the force of a canon.
You perfect goose! Lord knows you've never been very good at restraint but couldn't you at least have made an effort at control?
She covers her flushed cheeks, the gathering sob breaking free.
She weeps unabashedly as the fear, embarrassment, and uncertainty pummel her insides like a battering ram. Over and over.
She's placed herself in an awkward and sensitive position, giving Rhett an inordinate amount of power to wound her. And she wishes the floor would open and swallow her whole. Anything would be preferable to the responses spinning around in her head, what he might say...
She cries so hard that she starts to hiccough, her frame shuttering.
And then she's no longer in her chair.
Rhett gathers her up as if he's handling a porcelain doll, bringing them both to his abandoned seat. "Oh, honey. You've really worked yourself into a state, haven't you?" She sobs at his observation.
"I...I..."
He murmurs soothingly. "Hush now, there's no need to explain. You have yourself a good cry first and then we'll talk."
She wets his shirt and vest with her tears while he rubs her back in slow circles. Her forehead receives a kiss. It's as if she's a child again, wailing her sorrows into her Mammy's breast over some sisterly squabble. Or burrowing into Pa's arms after a scraped knee.
Waiting for everything to right itself.
Only, this time it is cigar smoke, horse leather, and spicy cologne that greet her sniffling nose. In the haze of crying, she realizes things seem a little less dire when Rhett's arms are holding her.
"There, there." He croons. "It's alright."
Under his ministrations, her sobs gradually taper off and she sighs in the aftermath, thoroughly spent.
When did you become such a watering pot Scarlett O'Hara? Crying never does any good.
She could easily give in to sleep right now if not for the anxiety of Rhett's response to her admission. Brushing absently at the moisture tracks on her cheeks, she sighs again.
A square of fabric is pulled from his jacket pocket and presented with a flourish. "I know you rarely possess a handkerchief in times like this."
She surprises herself with a watery laugh. "I do seem to have that unfortunate failing. But why carry my own when you can supply me so readily?"
He chuckles at the tease in her tone. She attempts to make herself a little more presentable, dabbing and pressing while remaining perched in his lap. She even hazards to blow her nose like a good girl, so like another instance that she blushes.
"I must look like a sight. I didn't mean to go all to pieces like that."
He simply shakes his head. "Even after a bout of crying, you couldn't look more becoming. Your honesty makes you brilliantly so."
She practically burrows into his shirtfront. "I don't think I've been more embarrassed in my life. Oh, do put me out of my misery, Rhett. After that scandalous admission, I don't think I can handle any more delay. I'm already as red as Mammy's petticoat."
His grin broadens at her comparison.
"You needn't be mortified. Let me reassure you directly and in the simplest terms."
His voice rumbles pleasantly against her cheek. "There is nothing monstrous or crass in those wishes, Scarlett. Everything you shared is perfectly acceptable and natural in a marriage between two loving partners. Marital intimacy at that level is the best, most decadent achievement for a husband and wife and now that I'm aware the want is mutual, we can experience a great deal more together in that regard."
"You are not brazen for desiring me, nor I in desiring you. This is how it was originally intended. We have our society to thank for diminishing marital relations to the mockery it is today. I've always held fast to what it can and should be...rightly."
" We are in this marriage together Scarlett, and you have as much right to have your needs, wants, and desires met. Nothing you could say or do in our times together would cause me to recoil or be disgusted. I can promise I will welcome every overture, every show of interest from you. And if it takes weeks, months, or even years until you are comfortable with unabashedly doing so, you'll find I'm a very patient man."
Her muffled squeak makes his chest shake in silent laughter. Only the top of her head is visible to his eyes but he has no doubt she is indeed as rosy as that infamously hued undergarment of Mammy's.
He continues, "And it is a huge boost to my male pride to hear you voicing it. Not to mention...several times...that you love me."
He encourages her upright with a nudge of his thumb to her chin. "You don't deny that claim do you?"
"Of course not! I honestly can't tell you when I fell in love with you but I love you more than anything now."
Shyness overtakes her features again as she whispers. "You believe me don't you?"
"Wholeheartedly."
"And you love me too don't you, Rhett?"
"Heaven help me, I do."
Her smile could light up all of Charleston with its brilliance. She settles back against him with a gusty exhale, her arms winding comfortably around his middle in a loose hug.
The room practically glows with warmth after their direct discussion and, coupled with nearness to an equally warm husband, Scarlett can feel her lids grow heavy. But there will be time for sleeping later.
Instead, she drowsily shuffles off of Rhett's lap with a hum. His quiet study of her actions makes her falter for only a moment until an emotion she can easily identify sweeps into the rich, black pupils.
Hope.
"Well, taking the entirety of our conversation into account it would be," Scarlett pauses with a thoughtful finger to her cheek, "perfectly natural to invite my husband," she leans down to buss his temple, "up to take a nap...with me."
She offers her hands to assist him up and he accepts with a devilishly rakish smile. Before she can blink, she's drawn in for one of the passionate kisses she's become so fond of. When they finally part, Rhett stares down at her with an intensity that makes her shiver. "Perfectly natural, my pet."