Atonement
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The guard's footsteps shuffled away from the horse stall-cum-jail cell, and Rhett's mind was racing. His "sister" Mrs. Hamilton was here to see him. The woman he'd left alone in the midst of two armies. The woman whose dancing eyes haunted his dreams through some very long, dark nights. The woman who'd been foremost in his thoughts when he fled the newly reunified nation's capital. The woman he was still madly in love with.
Why was she coming to him now? It was not that he didn't want to see her, but aside from that one horrible night, she'd never sought him. She'd welcomed his company, clearly more than she was willing to admit, but always he had come to her. Now she was here, and his suspicions were aroused as much as his desire.
The feathers of her hat, wavering over the shoulder of the guard leading her, announced her arrival. As she approached, he took in her appearance. Certainly she was better dressed than he'd expected, in a most flattering deep green velvet with a jaunty hat, but the dress was too self-consciously imitative of the latest fashions, rather than being simply stylish. The neckline swooped to reveal padded and plumped décolletage, but what captured his eye was the collarbone that stood out in sharp relief above it.
"Scarlett! My darling little sister!" he greeted her and enveloped her in an ostentatious embrace. The guard discretely disappeared as Rhett took the opportunity to feel the slenderness of her frame despite its elaborate trappings. She'd always had a shockingly tiny waist, but it had been all the more alluring because of her other obvious, delicious curves. These had vanished, leaving her simply thin under her clothes. He was more intrigued than ever by her arrival.
"Rhett! I came just as soon as I heard you were here! How awful, you in a Yankee jail, and not even a real jail, a horse jail!" She batted her eyes and looked up at him, in full belle mode.
He smiled down at her, noting the strange glow in her eyes. It wasn't so different from the look in her eyes that night he'd lead her out of Atlanta, a queer sort of desperation and hope. "How are things at Tara? You put on quite a show in your velvet."
His jibe was lost on her, apparently, for she only intensified her smile and cloying sweetness that he knew was so far from her true persona. "Things are doing just wonderfully. Only I was so awfully bored I thought I might come into town to visit."
Silence hung in the air for a moment, until he breached the distance between them to slowly trace her collarbone with his index finger. She shivered but met his eyes. "Why don't you tell me how things really are, and why you're really here," he said, exerting a great deal of effort to keep his voice neutral. Even now, he wanted her. Perhaps more than ever before, for the look of desperation in her eyes, her obvious need for him in some way, any way.
Suddenly she seemed to collapse against him as she had that last horrible night he'd seen her, clutching the front of his shirt in one hand as she cried against his chest. It was so unexpected that all he could do was wrap his arms around her and ask, "What's wrong, Scarlett?"
"Things at Tara are just awful, Rhett," she said, taking a few heaving breaths to quell her tears. "Mother's dead, Pa's not himself, there's no money and no food, and now the Yankees want another three hundred dollars in taxes."
"And you've come to here to ask me for the money? Where did you find the money for this dress, then, if you can't afford to feed yourself?" He didn't mean to be harsh, he was merely curious. She'd come to put on quite a show, but it was her candor that touched him.
"They were Mother's best parlor curtains." She let out a tiny sob before continuing. "You're the only person who has that kind of money. I don't expect you to just give it to me, I only want a loan until we get the money for next year's cotton."
"What do you suggest as collateral?" He was as much amused as intrigued by her offer. Surely she must know he could refuse her nothing, would give her the money with no strings attached.
"I've got my mother's garnet earbobs." When he responded with a blank look, wondering how far he could push her, she continued "Or I can sign over the deed to Tara until I've repaid you." He continued to look at her with a look of blank assessment. "Or myself. You once asked me…." She trailed off, having gained his attention more than he would allow himself to show.
"I did. You'd offer yourself to me for the money to save Tara?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Such an opportunity to have her, one he would never allow himself to take. Now he wanted her as more than a mere mistress.
She wouldn't look at him, only nod tersely in response. More telling still, she edged away from him, as if not only ashamed, but now waiting for him to refuse her. The look on her face broke his heart.
"What if I said no?" Though his voice was barely a whisper, it sounded loud in the hush that had fallen.
That got her to look at him, tears beginning to run down her face once again. "Oh, Rhett, you can't say no. I've got nowhere else to turn, and if we don't get the money, my whole family will be turned out. You just have to loan me the money. Please." She did start crying once more as she fell against him.
But this did not feel like the panicked plea of the frightened child he'd held that night on Pittypat Hamilton's porch. Now he felt in his arms a hungry, fearful, cornered lioness trying to protect not herself but her family.
"I won't loan you the money." Much as it pained him, he must be honest with her and hope she would hear him out before fighting against him, but she began to pull away from him before he finished the sentence and he knew that hope was in vain.
"What?" She looked crushed.
"I won't loan you the money. But I will give it to you with one condition."
Her face was so easy to read, and he knew he had her when she looked up at him with a steely resolution. "Name it."
"Marry me."
She backed away from him until she thudded against the rough wooden door of the stall, rattling it. "You're joking. It's not funny, Rhett!"
"I'm being completely serious, my dear." He'd never wanted anything in his life so badly as he wanted to feed her and protect her and take her to bed every night and make her so happy.
"But—but you always said…" she looked perplexed and wary. He realized that he had perhaps taken advantage of her trust to taunt her a few too many times.
"I once said too damn many things." He crossed the few feet between them in a single step, taking her in his arms once more. Their lips met before she could wipe the astonished look off her face, but she recovered quickly enough to return his kiss. His low voice whispered across her ear, "Now I'm saying I'd like to take care of you. I'd like you to be my wife."
With a shiver, she exhaled, "Yes." Then she seemed to sober and look up at him for just a moment before asking, "Why?"
He shouldn't have been surprised by her frank curiosity, but was startled by her blunt candor. Laughing, he asked, "Why do you care?"
"Well, you know that I'm marrying you for three hundred dollars. Shouldn't I know just as well what you stand to gain from this?"
"Ah, ever the pragmatist, darling. I've wanted you for years, and now I can have you, for three hundred dollars, and I rather like the idea of taking care of you and making you happy. You can be so pretty when you're happy. And I would hope you're marrying me for something more than simply money."
"I am fond of you, when you aren't being a varmint. But it's mostly the money."
He laughed, seeing in her eyes what she couldn't acknowledge, even to herself. Those few kisses, that little affection, had stoked a light that he hadn't seen since before the siege of Atlanta. "Now go see my lawyer tomorrow. Mr. Cramer is due to visit later today, and I'll tell him our happy news. He'll advance you whatever money you need until I'm released."
She nodded. "And when will that be? I don't suppose with the two of us and times like they are we'd have to stay engaged terribly long before the wedding."
He smirked, thinking of the field day the old peahens would have with this news. "Within the next few weeks, I imagine. I'll send word out to Tara for you."
It was well and truly astonishing when she flung her arms around him with surprising strength for her thin form. "Thank you so much, Rhett. You can't imagine how much this means to me, truly."
Kissing the crown of her head, he said, "I think I can. Now back to your Aunt Pitty's, before I forget where we are and decide to take a down payment now."
"Oh, you're awful!" she said, pulling away and opening the door. Without another word, she left, the confident staccato of her footsteps echoing back along the plank flooring.
Before today, he
thought he'd loved her. If that was love, Rhett Butler had just
discovered a new emotion. Her
courage and resolve and increased his
feelings for her a hundredfold.
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