His fingers ran over the emerald green felt and an image of her eyes flashed through his thoughts.
"It is a one of a kind." The shop assistant said. She spoke in broken English. "The feathers are very rare. They are… how do you say?"
"Peacock," Rhett provided.
He wished she would stop speaking. He wanted to linger his Scarlett memory for a moment more. He brushed his skin against the ribbon that surrounded the base of the hat. The sensation awoke his imagination and he thought of her smooth, soft skin, which he had yet to touch. Still, his eyes had raked over every exposed inch and it was flawless. He had no doubts how it would feel once he could run his hands over it. A strip of silk was a pathetic substitute. Maybe once he returned to Atlanta, he could at last prove his theory.
"Does your female friend have red hair? This green would be very pretty on such a lady."
He shook his head. This hat had been made for Scarlett. His left hand reached into his coat, searching for his billfold.
"Oh. Well, this color, is very popular. It is so vibrant because it is made off copper mixed with a chemical. In French the word is arsenic, but I do not know how you say."
The bell over the front door chimed, drawing Rhett's attention.
"It is the same in English," he said absentmindedly. He set down the hat and watched the source of his frustration walk toward him. Numerous times during his time in Georgia, Rhett had tried to catch Scarlett alone, but Steven had trailed after them like a puppy.
Her words were branded into his mind.
We want the same thing. I will make sure you get it.
He groaned. He had thought he needed her the night he arrived for dinner, but after receiving nothing but a healthy dose of Mrs. Wilkes, Rhett now understood what real longing was.
There, just inside the door, stood the person to blame. He should feel sorry for the pup, but he didn't. Steven was clearly smitten, but if he got too close, she would chew him up and spit him out. Such a rare creature needed someone who understood her, someone strong enough to withstand her force. Once they returned to the States, he would send the boy off on an errand and go to Atlanta alone. Rhett was doing his son a favor. The child never stood a chance.
"There you are. I've looked through half of Paris for you," Steven said as he approached. His gaze dropped to the table beside Rhett, and he gasped. Carefully, he lifted the hat and examined it. "Why, this is the exact color of her eyes. What a perfect gift for Mrs. Hamilton."
A beam of sunlight broke through the window, obscuring Steven's features. For a moment, Rhett thought he could be looking at Ashley Wilkes. His heart raced.
"How unfortunate. I have already decided to purchase it for your mother. The green would look lovely against her auburn curls, don't you think?"
Practice had guaranteed his voice gave away nothing, but he wanted to curse himself. Buying something for Belle would only make her more clingy.
He had panicked. But why? A hazy realization took form in his mind. Ashley Wilkes was also ill-equipped to match Scarlett, and yet…He needed to stop this foolishness. Scarlett wanted him. She had made herself very clear. Still, she had. Attend her eyelashes and fawned over Steven a little too much for his liking.
Regardless, he'd sooner cut the hat into tiny pieces and throw them into the ocean than let his son give that gift to Scarlett. He'd scoured the city for the perfect present—one that would make her face light up, something that he could use to entice her out of mourning. He'd be damned before he'd allow any male to steal his next move.
"You can get mother something in blue. It is quite becoming on her," Steven said. His greedy little fingers still clung to the prize.
With a shake of his head, Rhett chuckled. He was thinking about this the wrong way. There was no need to complete with his son. It didn't need to get that far.
He clasped Steven's shoulder. "We are in Paris, the city of love. Why are you thinking about a poor widow back home when there are hundreds of beautiful women here, ready to warm your bed?"
"Scarlett… Mrs. Hamilton is different. There is something about her. She is vibrant."
"Perhaps, it's motherhood. Have you considered how much responsibility it is to raise a child? And this is the child of her first-love. Even if you got used to the sleepless nights, the crying, and all the work, every time you looked into that child's eyes, you'd be staring into the eyes of the man she wanted but lost."
A crease formed in the center of Steven's brow. "Maybe that is how you would feel, but not me. That child needs a father, just like Mrs. Hamilton needs a man."
Rhett nodded. She did need a man, but Steven was just a boy—a stubborn one—but a boy, none the less.
It was going to take a little more time to redirect him. In the mean time, Rhett should try to enlighten Scarlett. She probably already understood Steven was all wrong for her, but it couldn't hurt to make it obvious.
"I know you didn't grow up in the same world as Mrs. Hamilton, but do you really think someone born and raised as a lady would appreciate such a hat when she is in mourning? No lady could accept such an expensive gift so soon after her husband's passing. Why, even making such an offer shows your disrespect for her beloved husband and demonstrates you question her values and morals."
Steven's brow wrinkled, and he lowered the hat. "How so?"
"A proper lady would remain in deep mourning for quite some time. If you gave her such a gift, it implies you think she will break decorum. Can you imagine the insult?"
With a frown, the younger man withdrew his fingers from the hat. "But she could hold onto it and wait until she is out of mourning to wear it."
"By then, it would be two seasons out of date. Would you rather she believe you question her fashion sense?"
"No. I… I don't want to insult her." His disappointment was obvious. He sighed and put on a brave smile. "I am lucky I have you to save me from my own folly. But I do wish to get her something. Do you have any ideas?"
Rhett smiled. Oh, yes. He had many ideas. "I understand she attended finishing school. Also, did you notice the shelves of books in their parlor? She must be a bibliophile. I heard she fluent in French. If you really want to impress her, something on philosophy, written in French, could do the trick."
Steven's face lit up. "You are right. Will you help me pick one out?"
Rhett nodded and took a step toward the door. He would find the most boring book he could and send his son back to the ship. He had errands to run. Their time in France was coming to an end, and now, he needed to find a new gift. He hadn't yet been to his favorite jeweler. Surely, there would be something there that would catch his feline's eyes.
"Wait. Don't you need to buy the hat for mother?" Steven called.
Rhett closed his eyes and ground his teeth, then turned around without a trace of irritation. "Yes. Of course." He pulled out his billfold and followed the clerk to a counter.
The prospect of seeing Belle again was soul-crushing, yet here he was buying her a gift that cost as much as a horse.
The clerk disappeared into a store room.
Belle was the real problem. She hung from his neck like an anchor. He had to figure out a way to quietly get rid of her.
The clerk returned with a hat box so large, it would take up a sizable share of his captain's quarters. A wicked smile spread across his lips.
Maybe she will trip on the hat box and tumble down the stairs.
One could always hope.