Disclaimer: Margaret Mitchell owns "Gone With the Wind" and all its characters. I own a handful of OC's and a story idea. Book-verse. Not "Scarlett" compliant.

Wade had excused himself from Marybeth earlier. Joe Whiting had just bought a new horse that he had driven to the party. Now he wanted to show it off to his friends. Wade went with the others to see it and had remained in the stable for some time discussing horses with Joe. Then he decided he really did need to see a man about a horse. So it was some time later that he made his way through the back yard and towards the kitchen door. It was away from the back veranda and usually deserted.

And sitting on the kitchen steps was Elsie Wellburn. She was all alone and bent over, head down, holding her ankle with both hands.

Wade paused at the bottom of the steps. "What's the matter, Elsie?"

She startled and looked at him, then looked away quickly as if embarrassed. "Ohh, you'll think I'm an awful goose, but I believe I sprained my ankle."

"Then we should send for Dr. Meade."

"No. Oh no, that won't be necessary. I'll be fine, I'm sure of it. But if you could help me back into the house...?"

He shrugged and went to her. Carefully he helped her up on to her good foot. "Hold the railing," he instructed and she complied. With an arm around her back to steady her, he half-carried, half-guided her up the steps and into the back door.

The door opened into an anteroom, a place of storage for the household odds and ends or to take off muddy boots. He tried to take her into the kitchen, but she resisted.

"Just put me over there--on that bench." She pointed to a rather decrepit-looking piece of furniture.

"But the sofa in the parlor would be better," he countered.

"Please. I really must catch my breath."

Accordingly, he helped her onto the bench and she smiled her gratitude to him. "I didn't know you were so strong, Wade."

He took an involuntary step backward and glanced at the door. "I'll go get..."

"Ow!" Elsie cried.

"Elsie?"

"I think," she gasped, "you will need to fetch someone after all, but could you do me a favor first? Could you look at it?"

"I'm not a doctor..."

"It really hurts. Please look at it?" And she gazed at him helplessly.

Wade hunkered down in front of her to see. It didn't look swollen, but she insisted it was painful. He touched it gingerly, feeling for any deformity...

"Your hands are warm and comforting, Wade. It feels good when you rub..."

Startled, he looked up at her. She was leaning back, arms behind her on the bench and she had arched her back a little bit, showing off her figure by making her waist look smaller. Her eyes locked on his for a moment before she reached out and touched his neck lightly.

He pulled his hands away from her as if he'd been burned and jumped to his feet. "Elsie, stop it," he said sternly.

Suddenly she seemed to wilt and then she burst into tears. "Oh Wade! I don't know what just came over me!" She reached into her sleeve for her handkerchief. "I'm so ashamed. I know you can never respect me again. Oh Wade..." and she broke down utterly.

The sight of her tears was nearly his undoing. He felt helpless and vaguely guilty that he had made her cry. "There Elsie, don't cry--please don't. Of course I still respect you. Elsie, please..." He tried to comfort her with words because he didn't dare touch her. But Elsie refused to be that easily comforted. She cried as he watched uneasily until she was cried out. Then she looked up at him with damp eyes. "I'm sorry Wade."

He shook his head quickly and waved off her apology. He wanted to get away from her and soon.

"I know I shouldn't ask you for anything else after you've been so kind--but I think I would like to retire to the parlor after all." She reached out to pull herself up on the back of a chair nearby. She was halfway to standing and when he saw her struggling, he stepped towards her reluctantly to help her, but she waved him away with a little laugh. "I think I can try it alone this time. It doesn't hurt as much as it did a few minutes ago and--owww!" She wailed loudly and started to crumple. Wade caught her in his arms. She put her head down, resting her forehead against his chest, and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm not as ready to walk as I thought," she giggled as she looked back up at him through her lashes.

Wade looked at her smiling, upturned face. So here she was in his arms. The very thing he had dreamed of for years--now come true. He couldn't deny that there was a certain sweetness in the attainment of a long cherished dream--she was no less beautiful then when he'd first fallen for her and the way she sighed as she nestled in his arms made his heart skip a beat and yet, somehow--it wasn't quite what he'd imagined--as if something vitally important were missing. "I'll take you into the parlor now," he mumbled.

"Oh, Wade, you're so wonderful to take care of me like this. But I've always known you're wonderful. We've been friends a long time, haven't we, Wade? Friends you and me? And I've missed you so lately-I've hardly seen you at all these last few weeks and I'm sure I don't know why you never come around anymore. But you won't be such a stranger from now on, will you? After all, you do care for me, don't you Wade?" She shifted slightly in his arms and was frankly leaning against him.

Wade looked at her in dismay, not knowing how to answer her. Elsie was the dream of his youthful years, the girl to whom he had given his single-minded, if unrequited devotion, here in his arms, saying the very things he had longed to hear from her mouth. Not to mention that the way she was brushing against him was causing some very disturbing sensations. But sometimes even the dreams of many years turn out to be illusions when actually attained. Before he could reply, however, a new voice broke in.

"You had better give her an answer, Wade Hampton Hamilton, because I'm anxious to hear it, too."

He and Elsie turned at the same moment to see Marybeth in the doorway. She was leaning casually against the threshold, arms crossed, one foot in front of the other--an almost masculine pose. But her eyes glittered dangerously and Wade almost didn't know who he should be more worried for--himself or Elsie. Marybeth certainly looked capable of violence at this moment.

"Oh, and know this before you answer--you can't have us both," Marybeth concluded.

Wade looked from her to Elsie. He knew exactly who he wanted--he didn't need time to think or decide. But he found himself unable to answer. He felt wretched over Marybeth finding him here like this with Elsie. The entire situation was silly and undignified and his head was still spinning from this whole encounter. As he looked down at Elsie he felt resentment stir against her for her silly tricks and artifice and guile. He was so wrapped up in this thought that he didn't realize he still hadn't answered Elsie's question.

But Marybeth was aware that he hadn't given them an answer. "Goodbye Wade," she said as she threw her hands in the air and brushed past them both, leaving through the kitchen door and letting it close with a resounding slam.

oOoOoOo

Marybeth stomped down the stairs and around the front of the house. It wasn't until she was almost at the stable that she realized she was wet. It was raining again. She wished she were a man and could swear, because now she was stuck here. If it had been sunny she would have stomped all the way home.

She let herself into the stable and to her relief it was empty--even Joe Whiting was gone now. Wade's carriage horse, Cinnamon, nickered at her softly and she went and stroked its velvety nose. How could he? How could he choose Elsie? Even if she was his first love...

She was angry and humiliated, letting herself fall for Wade, letting herself fall in love with Wade, because that's what it was--love. She loved him madly and it would be a long time before this healed, this wound he dealt her.

"You're lucky you're a dumb animal," she muttered to Cinnamon.

"I see you're still talking to my horse," Wade said softly behind her.

Marybeth stiffened, but would not turn around. She hadn't heard him come in through the other doorway. "I'm still talking to everybody, Wade. I'm merely waiting for the rain to let up. Then I'm going home."

"I wish you would stay."

"No. I don't wish to be here anymore."

"Marybeth, about upstairs..."

She sighed impatiently. "I don't own you Wade, and you certainly don't owe me any explanations."

"But I want to explain. Would you please turn around?"

"No."

"You're not making this easy."

"Why should I make this easy for you?"

"Because I'm trying to tell you how I feel about you. That I care about you."

At that, Marybeth turned around, but her face was suspicious.

"I found Elsie alone on the stairs and she said she hurt her ankle and I helped her into the house." He realized that Marybeth was now looking at him very strangely. "Then--I'm not sure what happened. She said--she said--oh, a lot of things, but it doesn't matter, I tell you." He ran his hand through his hair, nervously. "After you left, I told her that I didn't care about her in that way."

Marybeth looked at him and down at her clasped hands. She hadn't even realized she was wringing them. "You really said all that?" She asked low.

"Yes, and in front of witnesses."

"Witnesses...?"

"Sort of. You see, Elsie was incensed by my answer and drew rather a large crowd as she grew quite nasty and told me her opinion of me. Loudly"

"Really?"

"And if that weren't enough, she gave me a very hard slap."

"Humph. I should be the one to give you a slap."

"Oh?"

"For crying out loud, Wade. The sprained ankle is the oldest trick in the book! And you fell for it." She was still looking at him suspiciously, but there was a trace of scornful humor in her expression.

Wade was cautiously relieved that she seemed to believe him. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow at her and continued the playful banter. "Really? And what pray tell, is the second oldest trick?"

"Well..." she paused. "I suppose it would be something in my eye."

His lips twitched. "You'll have to explain it to me."

"You know the one--she says--there's something in my eye. And he says--let me take a look. And she goes up to him and tips her head back like this." She demonstrated.

Having her in close proximity, even in this mocking mood, gave him courage. He touched her cheek lightly. "Marybeth, you do know how I feel about you, don't you? You do know I care?"

She looked up at him, eyes bright and a little bit wary. Cautiously, he took her hands and pulled her close against him--and noticed that she offered no resistance. Then he leaned in and kissed her gently. His every nerve ending was alive and tingling and he was torn with anxiety that she would refuse him--especially after what happened today. But his desire for her was stronger than his fear and to his delight he realized her mouth was moving under his. His pulse quickened--this was too good to be true. Emboldened by her acquiescence, he kissed her more firmly and his arms went around her waist, pressing her strongly to him, feeling her soften and mold herself against him. Oh, she felt made for him! If he could only hold her like this forever--if only he never had to stop...

Marybeth's hands were on his shoulders and she gripped him convulsively as the stable floor seemed to dip and sway, making her dizzy. She gasped as he tightened his arms around her, breaking their kiss and murmuring her name before he moved his lips to the side of her throat, slipping the fingers of one hand into her hair and loosening half the pins in the process. Her arms twined around his neck and with a sigh she gave herself over to the delightful sensations rushing through her, her only wish being that she could stay here in the stable with him forever--held in his arms with his mouth against her skin creating such wonderful, delicious, shivery feelings--and that time could stop right now. She had never been moved so powerfully by anyone's kiss before--not Miklos', not William's, not Alex's--none of them had so filled her with this strange, new yearning. But on the heels of yearning, seemingly from out of nowhere she was seized by fear, and she pushed away from him, imploring, "That's enough, Wade."

He held her upper arms, holding her at arms' length as he looked searchingly into her face. She was still dizzy and she felt the way his hands on her arms were trembling, even while his eyes remained dark with longing. They looked at each other for a few moments, sheepishly, shocked at what had just sparked between them. Drawing a ragged breath, she said, I have to go now."

"Go?" He asked incredulously. "But--but it's raining."

"I'll go cross-lots." Stepping away from his arms, she put her wrap up over her head.

"But Ella and I were supposed to take you home. What'll I tell my sister?"

Marybeth laughed, a laughter tinged with just a bit of hysteria and started to trot across the yard, away from him, away from what just happened.

He took off in pursuit of her, stopping her with a hand on her arm. "I'm coming to see you tomorrow--I'm coming to call on you."

"Thank you, Wade."

They were standing under a clump of trees, protected from the worst of the rain, although water rolled off the leaves with occasional, heavy plops.

"This is hardly the time or the place," he said as a drop fell on his bare head. He'd left his hat inside. "But I have to say it. I love you, Marybeth. And not," he hastened to add, "because of what just happened in the stable."

She grasped his hand. "I know, I know."

He leaned in again to kiss her one more time. And as their lips met, her body swayed towards his, seemingly of its own volition.

Afterward, they looked at each other a few more moments, then Marybeth said, "Until tomorrow, Wade," and she turned and headed home.

Mrs. Meade was indignant when she saw Marybeth arrive, soaked to the skin.

"Get yourself upstairs, young lady, and out of those wet clothes. No, never mind trying to explain, I don't want to hear it. Just climb into bed. Betsy! Heat up a brick for Marybeth's feet. Honestly, girl, sometimes you just seem to lack all common sense."

Marybeth settled down under the covers, being warmed by the brick and the hot tea that Betsy brought to her, her head swimming with thoughts of Wade. Who would have thought he could move her like that? Who would have thought his kisses could make her respond that way? Her mother, Annamaria, was wont to say how the stillest tarns were the deepest. It was certainly true here.

oOoOoOo

Later that evening Dr. Meade came upstairs to see Marybeth. He felt her forehead and checked her glands as she submitted meekly to his examination.

"I think it's just a cold, but I want you to stay in bed all day tomorrow. No use in taking chances," he pronounced.

Marybeth nodded humbly.

When he rejoined his wife in the kitchen, she pounced on him for information.

"There's no need to worry," he said. "She has no fever, but her nose is badly congested. Keep that hot brick at her feet all day tomorrow--it will draw the inflammation from her head."

"I know, I know. I have taken care of the sick before," said Mrs. Meade, who was still irate, but her relief was visible.

"So she caught this cold walking home in the rain?" Dr. Meade pressed.

Mrs. Meade sniffed. "You should have seen her when she came home, all dripping wet and grinning like an idiot. Do you want to know what I think happened?"

He shrugged.

"I think Wade finally got up the courage to kiss her and now she's completely taken leave of her senses over it."

He shrugged again. "That would have been my diagnosis, too. But isn't this what you wanted? For the two of them to fall in love?"

"Yes, but...I hoped she would act a little more sensible about it. It's just Wade Hamilton, after all."

"Ah, but in her eyes he's not just Wade Hamilton. He's the man she loves. And I'll wager he's just as gone on her. Besides, don't forget, dear wife, that in spring a young man's thoughts..."

"I'll thank you not to repeat that ridiculous quote to me."

"It doesn't seem that long ago that you were my own darling Caroline Morgan. Before, of course, you gave me the honor of being my wife." He took her hand and kissed it with mock solemnity.

"Stop it. Stop it right this minute," she said, trying to sound stern, although she looked away with a little smile.