May I come in, Miss"? A discrete knock sounded on the door.

The girl who had said her name was Scarlett looked up from under the covers and quickly sitting up, passed a hand over her hair, smoothing the unruly curls in place and adjusting the lace trim of the dressing gown (the color of that being the same as her name) around her chest, she drew the sheets up to her waist and called, ' Come in".

The door opened a crack and looking up naively, Scarlett found herself staring right into a pair of piercing black eyes..eyes that took in her recumbent figure in one swift glance, and then with a malicious twinkle in them, came to rest pointedly on a badly battered book with its spine bent and twisted and its pages half ripped out, lying face down on the cream colored rug at the foot of the bed.

And right at that moment, as Scarlett watched the door swing gently open and a tall, dark figure enter the room, she knew, without ever understanding the how or why of it, that it was Trouble walking in. "Yes", she thought to herself as she watched the figure makes it way lithely across the room, pick up the book with a smirk and cock a knowing eyebrow at her. "Definitely Trouble".

Earlier in the day, the Butler household had had a rude awakening. They had discovered to their chagrin that the pale listless wisp of a girl they had rescued and whom they had considered a harmless sweet little thing was not so sweet or harmless after all. For it had a temper. And a bad one at that.

The House might have been spared that discovery if it had not been for Catherine and her well-meaning though ill-founded design to introduce Scarlett to the joys of the Butler library.

Scarlett's convalescing hours stretched long and empty and between the time spent politely nodding her head to the mindless matronly gossip of Catherine's visiting friends or putting up with Rose's endless childish prattles, she grew increasingly restless and cranky. Her boredom grew in alarming proportions with each passing day and when the platters of food carried up to her room started returning to the kitchens untouched, a desperate Catherine decided it was time for swift action.

And so, pulling down the heavy, leather-bound volume of "Les Châtiments" from the long rows of books lining the huge library, she had pressed it, delightedly, into Scarlett's reluctant hands. It was a big dreary looking historic novelette which went into painful detail of old French aristocracy and something about Napoleon. Scarlett had scarcely stumbled through the jargon of words on the first page before resolutely slamming it shut, having arrived at the undisputable conclusion that despite her recent handicap of mental oblivion when it came to remembering, book reading, especially this book reading and herself were not meant to be.

Short of the hopeful, loving look on Catherine's face, nothing could have persuaded Scarlett to touch the book again but Catherine appeared besotted by the book, a personal favorite and so Scarlett, reluctant to disappoint and almost cross-eyed with the effort, pored over the wretched tome every morning after breakfast. Her temper straining dangerously, she'd real aloud for an hour or so to her doted audience for Catherine and Rose would never fail to join her on these occasions, one sitting placidly on the little fringed hassock by the bedside with her head bent on an intricate pattern of knitting and the other, lying languidly by a pillow near Scarlett's head, her curious eyes searching the pages over her shoulders for any colorful pictures.

Four such long and arduous days passed, and Scarlett's head throbbed with every turn of the stiff and crinkled page, her mouth feeling achy and dry from uttering all the flowery words, until this morning, she had just about had it.

Deciding that it had been one page too many and any lingering resolve to spare Catherine's feelings melting away in a fitful display of temper, she had ripped the book from its cover and tossed it out the window. It had landed on the azaleas below and to Scarlett's bad luck, Pork who had been on garden duty that morning and hearing the loud squaking from the scattering geese and a flurry of flying pages, had come upon the book and after dutifully dusting the red mud off the pages and gathering up the book, had ensured that it found its annoying way back to her bedside again.

He later told Cookie as she applied the hot brick wrapped in flannel to the lemon sized bump on his head, that he had never seen a more interesting shade of purple as the one on Scarlett's face after he had handed her the book and never had he known his feet to move faster than when the thing had come hurtling down at his head with an unerring and deadly aim.

After that little tete a tete with Pork, word of her murderous mood made its way quickly among the Butler household and thankfully, not even Catherine had had the courage to come knocking on her door. Lying on the big bed and glaring sulkily at the book that lay in a tattered heap, its once crisp white pages, now crumpled and torn beyond redemption, she had been idly contemplating if she should perhaps work out her ire by burning the book or maybe take pleasure in slowly shredding its pages and feeding it to the geese when her thoughts had been rudely interrupted by a loud knock on the door and a drawling voice that insisted on coming in.

"The devil take him", Scarlett thought uneasily as she watched Trouble tuck the book securely under one arm and walk towards her with deliberate measured steps. She looked up, her eyes narrowing with interest as he approached her, and then suddenly widening with confusion as he came closer. When she had glimpsed him at the door, his towering silhouette had made her think him to be a man, but now, under the bright glare of the lamplight, she almost gasped as her eyes fell on his dark hair and youthful face. "Why, he is just a boy", she thought with something of a shock, "almost my age! Well, maybe a few years older", she thought grudgingly. He was certainly not older than Raydon, she was sure.

Trouble had reached her bedside and dragging a chair unceremoniously seated himself on it. Startled she gaped at him, her mouth open in surprise. He had some nerve, striding into a lady's bedroom and…. Mother of God! How dared he seat himself without as much as a by-your-leave!

Gathering the bedcovers more securely around her, she drew herself up straighter and opened her mouth, intent on freezing him with a few choice words, but before she could get a word in, the youth leaned forward in the chair and with exaggerated courtesy, handed her the bedraggled book. His face serious, but his voice was full of suppressed laughter as he said,"I see we have been having trouble with our ABC's".

Scarlett stared at him blankly, her eyes travelling from his face to the book in his outstretched hand. As the full meaning of his words struck her, her green eyes narrowed. She had hardly met this stranger for less than five minutes and he'd already set her blood boiling.

"Yes", she thought. Without a doubt…Trouble.

Her eyes took in his lounging figure dressed simply in a thin white cotton shirt, unsecured by cravat or necktie and tucked loosely into the band of his light khaki trousers. His boots came high above his knee and were sturdy and rugged, the leather creased into well-worn folds and the color fading into a gentle brown, hinting at long hours in the sun. He wore no hat over his jet-black hair that that swept upwards in thick waves framing his dark face. One errant lock fell rakishly across his broad forehead, and it appeared to bother him, for even as she watched, he lifted one hand and brushed it back carelessly. He was a handsome devil, she realized with a start. He had striking features with a well-proportioned face and high set cheekbones that carved down towards a flinty jaw. She traced the rugged lines of his jaw with her eyes moving upwards along the curve of his chin until they met his coal black eyes and the hot blood rushed to her cheeks in an embarrassed flush as she realized he had caught her staring.

His teeth showed in a wicked smile as he leaned forward in the chair and placed the book on the covers by her side. The slight movement parted his open shirt at the neck and from where she sat, she could see the clear outline of thickly corded muscles on his arms and chest straining under the thin white fabric of his cotton shirt. Her mouth fell open in shocked surprise! She had never seen a man built so heavily and with such wide shoulders! Up close, he seemed even bigger and..She broke off in mid thought. What was he doing? Where was he going? She looked up in alarm as the youth rose swiftly from his seat and pretended to hastily button his shirt at the neck and deliberately and pointedly inch the chair towards the door …and a few safe yards away from her.

"Maybe ringing that bell pull is a good idea after all Miss. I think I'd feel safer with a chaperone".

His words stung like a slap and she felt her cheeks reddening with shame and indignation. "I..I.." she stuttered, words failing her as she fought against the wave of anger mixed with humiliation. What was wrong with her! How could she have made a fool of herself in front of this rude stranger! She cast her eyes down helplessly and said nothing.

The room was silent except for her strangled breathing as she struggled with her growing temper. She'd had a hard day and the evening, it seemed was not going to go any better. Here she was, Scarlett O'Hara accused of gawking at a man! Oh! Why had she ever laid eyes on him! And then suddenly, a cold finger of fear gripped her heart. What would Catherine think of her if she heard, she panicked. What if the servants talked! They always were underfoot everywhere and heard everything somehow! Oh, before the night is over, she would be painted a hussy!

A soft chuckle fell on her reddening ears and a drawling voice said "Take it easy Scarlett. I don't blame you for staring. I have err been told I often have that effect on women", he said deliberately with a wicked grin.

Oh, the conceit of this insufferable man!

Seething with wrath, her head snapped up and hot words bubbled to her lips. She glared at the figure seated on the far-right corner of the room. The soft glow of the lamplight fell on his dark features, and he was looking directly at her. A moment before, it had been full of laughter, his black eyes dancing with merriment but now as she watched, he had a strange expression in his eyes as he looked down at her, his face wiped clean of all joviality and mockery. It was then that he opened his mouth and he said in a quiet voice, "You see Scarlett, you have nothing to worry about. Your secret is safe with me."

The words rushed at her like the cresting waves from a sea of turbulent memories. The room seemed to spin and blur and she felt herself drowning in a blurry haze as the image of a face filled her vision, a face that was dark and swarthy with a voice like molten gold, "Scarlett", it seemed to whisper, she could feel the skin of her neck tingle as a mustache grazed it tenderly..lovingly…. "Scarlett"!

Scarlett! Miss O'Hara, are you ok"?

She realized she was perspiring, and her forehead felt damp and chilly. A dizzying sensation hit her as she reeled into arms that reached out and supported her. She could feel the blackness tugging at her and for a moment, she opened her eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of horses and leather.

The room spun faster, and the earth seemed to shift again. She reached up desperately her mouth grazing his lips and said in a faint whisper "Rhett, she will die". The words trailed miserably into a hoarse whimper as the blackness closed in.