Scarlett explained away the uneasiness which overwhelmed not only her mind, but her lithe form as she stood before him. It had been such a long time since they had last been together. Too long. And though she had longed for it, even dreamt of it, she was apprehensive now that the inevitable was upon her. Would it be as she remembered? Would she disappoint him? She had certainly done more than her fair share of it in the past, both behind and in front of closed doors. She'd driven him away. She was cold to him for the majority of their married life together, indifferent and detached. And then, when she least expected, Rhett returned to her. Scarlett was now presented the opportunity to mend the wrongs of the past. Throughout their estrangement and her subsequent yearning for Rhett, she had plotted out in her mind how she would make it all up to him and was confident she could and would do it should he allow her circumstance to do so.

Gazing at him, only steps away from her, Scarlett wondered if Rhett felt the same anxiousness over what was about to transpire between them as she, then quickly decided he more than likely did not. Whether he did or did not was of no matter, she reasoned. He would put on no outward display of it if that were the case. She continued to stand mute, as did he, each of them holding the other's gaze in the dim light provided by the flicker of the lone candle in the room. Though the silence furthered her anxiety, Scarlett found herself unable to mutter so much as a whisper to extinguish the silence between them. So, she looked at him. Not much had changed about him. He was just as tall, just as strong, and just as formidable as he had been the first time she had laid eyes on him. The lone change, that being the addition of a few more gray strands on his temple, made him even more attractive in her eyes.

"What are you thinking about, my pet...?" asked Rhett, finally breaking the uneasy quietness of the room.

His pet. How many times had she cringed at him utilizing that reference to her? And how many nights had she pined for him, wished he would appear and refer to her as 'his pet' again, all the while knowing in the back of her mind she would never hear those words again? Yet, he they were. Here he was.

Was she dreaming? Logic told Scarlett she must be. Three days had passed since he'd come to her, rescuing she and Cat, his daughter. Their daughter. She knew she should pinch herself, but feared doing so. If she did, and proved to herself she was having another of her dreams, Scarlett was all too aware she'd be incapable of withstanding it.

"Scarlett...," he whispered to her once more, drawing himself close enough that she was enabled to breathe in the faint scent of cigar and brandy on his breath.

This was real. His outstretched hand, lightly taking her wrist and pressing it to his lips was real. Though she'd often thought she didn't deserve it, Scarlett had been bestowed a second chance.

Why do I feel like a schoolgirl, she chided herself. This was only natural after all. It was what she wanted. She had known this moment would come, thought she had prepared herself for it. She had rehearsed it in her mind so many times, much of those being in the few days following their exit from the tower. Now, there was nothing in their way. They were safe, tucked inside the confines of their suite at the De Vere Cavendish hotel in London. Cat was in the adjoining room, sound asleep. No, nothing stood between them, excepting Scarlett and her thoughts which she couldn't avoid as juvenilish as she knew they were.

"You are so beautiful...," Rhett continued, his lips sending chills down her spine as they made their way on up her forearm.

Scarlett closed her eyes, relishing the heat emitted by his lips as they touched upon her skin. Yes, she was ready for this. And this time, their interlude would not be brought on by her simply doing her duties, being a submissive wife. Nor was it due to a terrible row or a 'celebration of survival' as he'd termed their time together following the storm they'd encountered the day he had taken her sailing. This time, it was mutual. No argument, or force of nature could be blamed.

Rhett's lips descended upon Scarlett's as he wrapped his arms round her, drawing her closer so that the strong muscles of his chest pressed against her bosom. She fell into him, her own arms sliding over his shoulders and caressing his neck as she returned his kisses. As he kissed and caressed her, Scarlett was reminded once again of his manliness, a masculinity that set him apart from all others. There was noone like him.

He continued kissing her, allowing his lips to trail from her lips down to her neck. While he did so, Scarlett's hands involuntarily made their way inside the opened neck of his starched, white collar shirt and she began to memorize with her fingertips each and every inch of him so that, if he woke tomorrow and realized he'd made a terrible mistake...left her...she would always have him in her mind. That, she resigned, she could live with. She might have no other, but she would always have this night.

"Such perfection..."

With skilled fingers, Rhett undid the buttons of her wrapper inducing Scarlett to release him from her grasp and simply watch as he moved to release it from her body.

Perfection, he'd termed her. Over the course of his life, Rhett had experienced more than his fair share of women. But none matched Scarlett. From her exquisite face, her feminine yet strong neckline, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist, none could match her. Not in body, nor in nature. As the wrapper began to fall back, Rhett's eyes roved over her in amazement, moved from her eyes, and on down her body until they reached the lengthy, inches long scar over her abdomen.

Scarlett was suddenly aware of herself when Rhett's dark eyes focused on the slightly raised discoloration of her midsection and of the sharp intake of his breath when they fell upon it. Modesty overtook lust and she moved to conceal herself, involuntarily placed both hands over it.

"Scarlett..."