Author's Note: Thanks to all my reviewers!
Here's the next chapter, hope it's worth the wait.
Supper had went well, or as well as it could possibly go
Supper had went well, or as well as it could possibly go. Scarlett sat at her usual spot at the table, Bonnie on her right and Wade and Ella opposite them. The little conversation that had punctuated the meal had been provided by Bonnie, the other three remained in an awkward silence.
It had been a quiet night, she thought, as she carefully brushed her hair.
The children were now safely in their bed, and sleeping soundly. She had made sure the light had been left in Rhett's room, where Bonnie slept –that was another thing she was going to have to put an end to soon, she had to get her daughter out of Rhett's room, it was just not proper.
Before retreating to her bedroom, she had dismissed Pork and all the other servants for the evening, so the house was filled with an unusual silence.
She lay the brush down on the vanity table, and went to bed and slid between the sheets, abandoning her wrapper on the floor.
She quickly slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber.
She awoke abruptly, after what seemed like only minutes of rest but had been in fact hours, by the sound of something falling and smashing into thousands of pieces on the floor.
She sat up in her bed; all senses immediately awake, and searched the darkness for the point of origin of the crash, she soon realised that it hadn't come from anywhere in her room, but from another part of the house.
The moonlight light the room as she glanced at the clock witch sat on her bedside cabinet and read, "3 O'clock …" she groaned.
She wondered where the noise had came from, at this late hour none of the servants would be up and about, and the children had to be tucked up safely in their beds, Wade and Ella would never dare venture outside the nursery after bedtime, they were too afraid of the reprimands they would receive if ever they were caught. As for Bonnie, well she was so terrified of the dark that she would have begged and screamed for her mother rather than get out of the security of her bed.
Who could it possibly be?
She prayed to God that it wasn't a thief –or worse. She gathered up all her strength and decided to go and investigate, she wasn't going to crumble into pieces and hide under her covers, she had survived the Yankees during the war, she had even killed one of them, she wasn't about to let a little noise have the best of her.
She threw the covers back and swiftly swung herself out of bed, put her slippers on, picked up her wrapper from the floor and put it around her shoulders.
She slowly crept out of the room and quickly glided along the corridor, she stopped when she got to the top of the stairs. She peered down from this prime observation spot.
Even in the weak light of the candle burning downstairs, Scarlett recognised Rhett's tall figure bending over what appeared to be a pile of glass, or rather as she would later find out, pile of crystal –the remains of her favourite vase.
She heard him curse as he tried to pick up the pieces; from where she was standing she could tell he was drunk. This was the worse she had ever seen him, he must have really indulged himself, she thought, because Rhett was the kind of man who knew how to hold his drink, and tonight he was barely able to hold himself up.
The only other person she had seen in a similar state was her own Father, when he had been a bit too generous in pouring his whiskey.
Rhett cursed again and mumbled something she didn't quite understand from where she was standing. She deeply regretted Pork's absence, he knew how to deal with men in such a condition, she sighed, he had taken care of Paw so many times.
But never in a month of Sundays would she have imagined having to deal with such a situation. Why, she hadn't even expected Rhett to even come home tonight. She had thought he would more than likely spend the night elsewhere, like nearly every other night since he had returned home, with that vile and disgusting Watling woman.
She slowly and carefully made her way down the long staircase, he hadn't even realised she was there yet. As she got closer and closer to her husband, she tried to think of something good to say. It wasn't every day she had the upper hand with Rhett Butler, so this was an opportunity she had no intention on wasting.
Sure she could always find the strength inside her to be nice to him, like a wife should be to her husband, it's not as if he was in any state to actually remember her behaviour in the morning anyway, but what good would that do to her? None, and she Scarlett O'Hara wasn't a normal wife, she did nothing without expecting something in return.
She came to a halt when she arrived on the bottom step and stood there, that way, in addition to her sober state, she also had the advantage of height, so she could look him in the eye without having to look up. She cleared her throat and said flatly "Got yourself into a right state, haven't you?"
He turned around as soon as he heard the sound of her voice, his clothes were creased and the top buttons of his shirt was undone, his usually tidy hair was messy, he cocked his head sideways, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and stumbled awkwardly towards her.
"Why, Mrs Butler! How kind, ladylike and so out of character of you to have stayed up all night and waited for your dear husband to return home after a night of fun out on the town," he slurred.
"Don't flatter yourself, Rhett," she said bluntly. "I heard a noise and I thought it would be wise to see where it had come from. You broke my vase."
"How so very brave of you, my pet, aren't you full of surprises? Weren't you afraid? It could have been a thief –or worse."
"Well somebody has to look out for the family's safety. It's not like I have a husband home every night to count on for that," she replied, then she noticed a trail of blood on the carpet and added "You're hurt."
He shrugged and turned his hand over, revealing a wound on the palm of his right hand, "I must have cut myself when I was picking up the pieces of your hideously ugly vase, my dear. You certainly have the poorest taste in the entire South," he muttered. "I'll take care of it tomorrow, I'm going to bed," he said as he pushed past her and started going upstairs.
At that moment, she suddenly realised that she didn't really despise him. In his current state of intoxication, he wasn't the unbearable conceited cad, she had to deal with every day, and tonight he was just a man. This was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. She didn't love him that she was sure of, but she didn't hate him either, well at least not tonight.
She grabbed his left hand and said firmly, "No, not tomorrow, if you honestly think that I'm going to let you bleed all over my house, Rhett Butler, you are not only completely drunk, you have also lost your mind. Come with me."
He was in no shape to argue with her and Scarlett had no problem making him comply with her order. She did have trouble, on the other hand, getting him into the drawing room, he appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness, and her petite frame had a hard time supporting his and her weight as he heavily draped his arm around her shoulders for support.
They eventually arrived at their destination and Scarlett sat Rhett down on the settee and granted herself a couple of minutes to catch her breath.
"What now, my pet?" Rhett asked.
"I'm going to bandage your hand, then …"
"My, my," he interrupted. "I wasn't aware of the fact that you possessed any selfless skills."
"Rhett, you know fine well that I was a nurse during the war," she answered back coolly, determined not to take the bait Rhett was so obviously laying out for her.
"And a right fine nurse you were, my dear," he sniggered.
She chose to ignore his snide comment and started to rummage through the cabinets for cloths or something that she could use as a bandage, she found what she was looking for and brought out a bottle of brandy in addition to the bundle of material.
"That's right Scarlett. Treat yourself to a nice quick little drink, you're looking awfully pale," he said.
"First of all, I'm absolutely not craving a drink, and secondly, it's not for me," she replied with all the calm she could muster.
"Well thank you, but no thank you," he laughed. "I think I've had my fair share of alcohol for the evening."
"You don't say … It's not for you either," she said as she poured some of the liquor on one of the cloths and dabbed Rhett's wound with it.
When he winced in pain, Scarlett couldn't stop herself from snorting, "Surely the great Rhett Butler, the grand blockader, the valiant soldier can deal with a little pain." And certain he wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, she added, "A real picnic compared to the torture that is childbirth."
He just sat there, observing her with his big black eyes.
And just as quickly as she had tied the knot to the bandage around his hand, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. He held her there tightly for a moment and they looked into each other's eyes, the seconds that seemed to last for hours
Then as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he kissed her.
Not one of those innocent kisses that they had shared in the past years to keep the gossip down, or one like those they had shared at the beginning of their marriage, but one that resembled those they had exchanged that fateful night, during which they had conceived the child she was carrying.
For a moment she was lost in pure passion, it was primal and forceful, it was as if she couldn't pull away, even if she had wanted to, the kiss had awakened in her feeling that she thought would had died forever.
She remembered the last time they had spent the night together, the pure pleasure and ecstasy he had been able to rise in her. Then she remembered the days of worry that had followed that night. Was pleasure worth the price, she wondered.
He had made her suffer with the waiting, the humiliation, then his retreat to Charleston, taking Bonnie with him, far away from her. He had used her like he would a common whore.
She suddenly felt used and disgusting, she broke the kiss.
"Having a little bit of déjà-vu, my dear?" he asked.
It was at that moment she knew pleasure wasn't worth the suffering. She pushed him away with all her strength and stood up, she looked at him one last time before turning on her heels and fleeing the room, not slowing down until she found herself safely back between the sheets of her bed.
Back in the drawing room, Rhett took a swig of the brandy bottle that Scarlett had left opened on the side table. He looked down at his bandaged hand, unable to process what had just happened.