"What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes." - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Rhett sucked in a sharp breath, unable to take his eyes off of her. He could feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest.
What now? In spite of the fact that he had been waiting for years for her to realize that Wilkes didn't love her, that hers was but a fool's hope, he was still surprised by her words. The magnitude of what they implied was sinking in only slowly.
After his confrontation with Wilkes at Belle's the night before, he had been hoping for this to happen, of course. He had known that if Wilkes told her about his nightly exploits, Scarlett would simply have to realize that the man did not care for her. As a result, he had been eager for her to go to the mills and talk to Wilkes, knowing that the wimp had no choice but to confess his misdeeds if he wanted to save his reputation. Otherwise, as Rhett had assured him, he would suffer the consequences, one way or the other. It was the most pure and ingenious kind of blackmail, Rhett Butler at his manipulative best.
It only came as a surprise to him how very soon it had happened, and he was not exactly sure what to do or say next. He felt a heady joy and – dare he say it – a fierce hope burning inside of him, yet the cool voice of common sense warned him not to trust these feelings without caution. Too long had he been hiding his emotions from Scarlett, too long had he been careful around her, always keeping his guard up, to grovel at her feet now, begging her to understand, in the wake of this fresh realization, that he was the one for her, not Wilkes.
No, the voice whispered, do not act impulsively, it's always a mistake. Involuntarily, he took a step back as if to distance himself from her, sure that his eyes would give him away if she looked up at him now. But she did not, and he was secretly glad for the short respite. With an effort he smoothed the lines of his bemused face back into the blank mask he usually wore in her presence. Thinking quickly, he decided that it would be best to test the waters first and find out exactly how and when she had acquired this new knowledge. He felt like he was treading on thin ice and needed to be careful. But, at the same time, he felt the familiar urge to comfort her, to hold her close, for she looked sad and weary. But now was not the time. Not yet.
"Well," he said lightly but not unkindly, "this is quite the... err, surprise, I guess." He shoved his hands into his pockets and met her eyes when she looked up at him again, the slightest of smiles tugging at his lips. His dark eyes were tranquil now, not reflecting his agitated thoughts but void of their usual mocking gleam. "What happened?"
She gazed sharply at him, but when her feline eyes found no trace of mockery in his, she seemed to relax, perhaps realizing that he had no teasing in mind for once but was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
"I went to the mills this afternoon," Scarlett began slowly. "To see him. To talk to him," she added shamelessly, as if not conversing with her husband but some curious bystander. And yet, Rhett thought oddly, was that not exactly what he had been for the last two years? A bystander, shutting himself away in a mental prison of jealousy and resentment.
"When was that?" he invited her to continue.
"Oh... well, I left the mills about an hour ago. I … tarried a little on my way home, I guess."
Judging from her red-rimmed eyes, Rhett assumed she had been crying her eyes out in the woods. To confess to such a weakness, even if only indirectly, was very unlike Scarlett, who was a woman of immense pride, and his heart was strangely stirred by compassion and understanding. But there was also a burning rage. She did not deserve having to weep because of that golden-haired weakling. Couldn't she see that?
"Go on." He prodded gently, carefully keeping his voice blank so that she would not realize how much it all meant to him. For now, it was better if she thought he was merely being kind, as he had been in the early days of their marriage, and not desperate for her to see that they belonged together.
"I thought –" Scarlett continued hesitantly, "I mean, I had to know if he... if he loved me. I just had to know."
Rhett frowned, his mind working quickly. So she had driven to the mills of her own volition in order to confront Wilkes? But that could only mean... It could only mean that she had already doubted whether the man loved her or not before she even went to him, that it had not been Ashley himself who had approached her first in order to make his confession. It could only mean that her own doubts had triggered the decision to go to the mills. Rhett remembered her weary and drawn face yesterday morning and couldn't help thinking that he was missing a crucial piece of information. Something else, something important, must have happened yesterday, there was no other explanation for Scarlett's words. What had made her doubt Ashley's feelings for her? Rhett was dying to know, and for a fleeting second he entertained the idea of grabbing her shoulders and shaking her until she let him in on her secret, whether by her will or not. But patience was the better option, and so he merely listened to her as she ran on.
"I paid off the teamsters and went inside to talk to him. I was so afraid of what he might say but at the same time I couldn't stay away." There was something feverish in her eyes at the memory. " I couldn't wait any longer."
"So it was you who confronted him?" Rhett threw in conversationally, carefully curbing his impatience.
She nodded.
"He did not seek you out to talk to you?"
It was her turn to frown, as if trying to figure out to what his questions tended, but then she simply shook her head. "No... He was in the office and I had not seem him since – well – I had not seen him for a while."
Since when? What happened? He wanted to ask, sensing that she was holding something back, probably that piece of information that would enable him to make sense of all of this.
"So you were the one who wanted to talk," he said instead.
"Yes. He talked to me about his birthday party and I pretended to be shocked that he already knew about Melly's plans. He went on and on about mindless things, and I made myself answer." She gave a little snort. "But all I could think of was how foolish I was being and how … how much of a coward and hypocrite he was."
A lesser man would have fallen over at that moment. Her golden knight, a coward and hypocrite? This sure was a first. But still he didn't understand the whole thing. Something must have taken place prior to that encounter at the mills, something that had shaken Scarlett's unwavering belief in Ashley and their mutually shared love, or she would never have confronted him so directly. This was interesting. Immensely interesting.
"What happened then?"
"He would not stop smiling at me as if nothing had happened and then – then he told me how pretty I was," she spat out, she, Lady Vanity, who usually bathed in compliments. But this particular one did not seem to have pleased her. In any other situation, he would have had a hard time trying not to laugh and ask her jokingly, How fickle is woman? But, given the present situation, it wasn't quite so funny.
"It was too much." She went on, and he concentrated on her face once more. "I - I couldn't take it anymore. I shouted at him because I wanted to know why – well, I needed to know some things. And from then on it all went wrong. He wouldn't look me in the eye but only ever talk of his lost honour and how much of a swine he was..."
Rhett heartily agreed with Wilke's assessment of his own character, and he was proud and pleased to see that Scarlett seemed to realize how cowardly and infinitely weak that man truly was. But at the same time he couldn't help thinking that she was keeping something from him, again. What "things" had she wanted to know? What was it that had driven her to the mills in the first place?
"I'd had enough," she continued roughly, clutching the banister of the grand staircase until the knuckles of her hand whitened, "and so just I asked him. I asked him if he – if he loved me, and he wouldn't say anything. He just turned away from me and said nothing. And then I knew it."
Rhett nodded slowly, but there was a burning flame in his eyes. "Knew that..."
Her head jerked upwards and she said loudly, heedless of any servants who might be close by, "That he didn't love me! That he never loved me in the first place and never will. He never cared for me and yet he made me believe that he did. It's Melly he really loves. It's always been her. And I was such a stupid fool I didn't know it."
His brows flew up in surprise. So this, too? The realization that it was Melanie who truly had Ashley's heart? But of course. Scarlett had probably asked the man if he loved his wife, and the idiot had finally found the courage to tell his almost lover the truth.
"Indeed?" He asked, unable – unwilling - to keep a slightly sardonic undertone from creeping into his voice. Her poor treatment of Melanie Wilkes had always annoyed him. That lady was the only truly good and unselfish person he had ever known in his life, a woman of great loyalty and integrity, whose gentle kindness might have softened some of Scarlett's sharp edges if she had only let her. But she had not, instead choosing to belittle and scorn the one female friend who had always supported her, loved her and never asked any questions.
Scarlett, sensing his sarcasm, curled her lips in indignation. "Yes, indeed," she hissed, her eyes suddenly even more fiery than before. "And you don't have to remind me how badly I've treated her, Rhett. I know that. I know what a fool I've been. I realized it today when I was driving home. She's always been so good to me and I never realized just how much I loved her. She's worth a million of me and if Ashley had any sense at all, he would have realized it years ago. Laugh at me all you want, but I know better now. I love Melly. I do. And I swear to God, I'll never hurt her again."
A daring promise, but there was no lie in her eyes. He was inclined to believer her. Scarlett was a straightforward person, prone to sudden realizations that could make an impact on her very life, and perhaps the encounter with Wilkes had been a turning point for her in more than one way. And maybe, just maybe... if she could learn to love Melanie, she could also learn to love him.
"I'm glad," he said honestly. "She loves you, Scarlett. She's always been there for you and I'm sure she always will be. There's not much, if anything, that would make her turn against you. I must say this is unexpected, but if you really appreciate her now, it's to your credit."
"I do, Rhett. I do appreciate her. I love her. And if I only could, I'd go back in time and do it all differently."
"Would you, I wonder?" He said offhandedly. He took a step closer to her, looking deeply into her eyes. "What else would you change if you could turn back time?" It was an odd question and he wasn't sure where it had come from. But for some reason it had to be asked.
She shrank back a little, her body pressing into the banister. "I don't know – many things, I guess. I – I wouldn't have run after Ashley the way I did. I wouldn't have wasted so much time."
Before the storm in her emerald eyes, Rhett held his breath. The magnitude of it all of this struck him once more. She knew that Ashley did not love her. Had never loved her. Would never do so. She truly and utterly grasped it. Rhett had always wanted this, exactly this - for her to see that Wilkes' love for her was as solid as quicksand, never a strong foundation upon which to build her dreams. Although it had taken her a long time, far too long, in fact, he was proud of her for finally realizing it and glad that she had told him. He longed to comfort her, take her in his arms and make her forget that wimp who could never have made her happy anyway.
But old habits die hard, and the dark, resentful part of him wanted to hurl at her, I told you so, didn't I? Time and time again I tried to make you understand, but you wouldn't listen. Yes, you wasted time, and now does time waste you. Why couldn't you see that he didn't give a damn about you? Your body, yes. Your "passion for living", indeed. But your soul? Your mind? Never. Whereas I … I have always wanted you, all of you. I have loved you. And I love you still.
She would have deserved it. She would have deserved his rage, his scolding. For a decade she had lusted after a man who did not love her, foolishly shutting out the one who truly cared. She had hurt his pride and his feelings more than any other person in his life had ever done before. And yet, knowing himself, he knew that it could all be mended. There was no permanent damage yet, nothing incurable. If only she gave him her love, he would be healed, completely. The door was wide open, now that she was free of Wilkes' hold on her.
For he sensed keenly that Scarlett had already begun to realize that her love for Ashley was gone, or at least that his betrayal did not hurt her as much as it should have. Sure, she was upset and disappointed – after all, who could dare slight Scarlett O'Hara and not tickle some kind of powerful emotion out of her? But she understood now that she had wasted time and that her foolish pursuit of Ashley had cost her many things. She was definitely headed in the right direction.
But it was not enough. He needed her. Her heart, her soul – her body. He could wait, but he couldn't wait forever. If he didn't win her love soon, he was not sure what would happen to him. And he didn't want to become even more bitter and alone, empty inside. It was not the way he envisioned his future. Bonnie was enough to sustain him – for now. But he was not just a father but a man, an adult who needed and craved adult companionship. Who craved her. She was his partner, his soulmate - even if she did not know it. And he was hers.
He had not realized that during his reverie, his face had changed in a way Scarlett had never seen before. When his eyes focused on her once more, he saw confusion and fear in her green eyes, as if she didn't know how to act around him, and he frowned. He began raising his hand to touch her arm, but she forestalled him by quickly climbing up another step. Out of reach – again. His hand dropped.
She turned her head awkwardly, and Rhett knew she was about to seek sanctuary in her room. Something had changed about her demeanour, a shift imperceptible to anyone but him. Whereas she had been suspicious but trusting before, she was now desperate to get away from him.
"I – thank you for listening, Rhett. I appreciate it, I really do. But I'm rather tired. Please make my apologies to the children, will you?"
He nodded mutely.
She seemed surprised by his silence, surprised and relieved. "I – all right then. I guess I'll see you in the morning." She forced a tiny smile to her lips and turned around to ascend the rest of the stairs.
Rhett watched her retreating form, still saying nothing. And then, suddenly, he did not know why, she looked back at him over her shoulder once more, her eyes immediately meeting his. And something snapped inside of him.
He could let her walk away and hide herself in her room, and nothing would change. He couldn't be sure that she would come to love him if he didn't do anything to make her see what she was missing. Perhaps they would be more kind to each other from now on, now that they had talked to each other like adults for once in their lives. Perhaps they wouldn't, quickly falling back into old patterns instead, strangers in a marriage.
She had reached the landing, and in that moment he made his choice. He would fight for her. He couldn't let her walk away, not now. He had too much to lose.
"Scarlett," he called out, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
Swift as a panther, he dashed up the stairs and grabbed her arm, turning her around so that she faced him. He pushed her backwards until they stood in the shadows next to the wooden stair post upon which a giant chandelier had been placed, carving out its miserable existence amidst the garish décor of the house. Its candles had not yet been lit. He reached for Scarlett's chin and tilted her head backwards, looking deeply into troubled green eyes.
He knew he did not yet know everything he needed to know. He knew she was hiding something from him. He did not know if she would push him away. But he did not care.
"Scarlett," he whispered. "Don't go yet. Please."
He put his arms around her and lowered his head slowly, daring her to cry out in protest.
She didn't. She didn't break eye contact either. God, he loved those eyes. And for once, he wanted to get lost in them, without restraint. Without the shadow of Ashley Wilkes hovering over the two of them.
Without fear.
Suddenly, she was in his arms, those powerful, muscle-heavy arms that could so easily have crushed her but were also capable of great tenderness, as she well remembered. He held her tight, his hands sneaking around her torso and settling upon her shoulder and the small of her back. She could feel his thighs pressing against her, his strong chest against her upper body, his breath on her skin.
Dazed, bewildered, yet keenly aware of his magnetic presence, Scarlett looked curiously into his eyes. They were dark, dark like an abyss or the pitch-black night. There was something deep and dangerous in them, something raw and unbridled and frightening she had often seen but never quite grasped, and she did not grasp it now. Was it desire? Passion? Hope? She couldn't tell. But, oddly enough, it comforted her. For even though his gaze was smouldering, scaring her with its intensity, there was tenderness beneath the embers, ready to soothe her should she burn her hands. And in this moment she wanted nothing more than to get her finger's burnt, to kindle the fire until the flames devoured her.
Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing deliciously against his upper body. She felt him tense as he stared at her, surprised, perhaps, by her eager reaction. She could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, but she was too baffled by her own needs to ponder over it. He lowered his head, seemingly hesitant in spite of having followed her. But then, when she did not back away but held his gaze, his muscles relaxed in an instant. The danger in the depth of his eyes was suddenly mingled with something ardent that confused her, and for a fleeting moment she tried to understand, eager to unravel the mystery that was the man before her.
But then his lips descended upon hers, and all rational thought vanished from her mind.
Ecstasy.
Need.
Surrender.
She went limp like a ragdoll in his embrace, her senses reeling. They had not shared a kiss in what felt like an eternity, and those they had last shared had certainly been different. During their honeymoon and Scarlett's pregnancy, there had been kisses, yes – pleasant, exciting at times – but never like this. This was a kiss the likes of which he'd only ever given her twice. Back then at Rough and Ready, and when he had proposed. And like those two times before, she was thrilled in spite of herself, letting herself get carried away by those things only he could make her feel.
The touch of his lips swept through her like ice coursing in her veins, making her shiver involuntarily, only to settle as a warm pool in her belly. She felt strangely alive – vigorous, ecstatic - yet helpless in his arms. His lips held sway over her, pleasuring her in a most scandalous manner, and she remembered dimly that this was not proper, that she should push him away and demand an explanation for his indecent conduct. But that was the furthest thing from her mind. A deep and rich voice in her head urged her not to stop him but to get lost in his arms. She wanted this, and she couldn't have escaped even if she'd wanted to, so strong was her desire to be held by him. He was like a force of nature - a riptide pulling her under, a strong wind sweeping her along. And she gloried in it.
He flicked his tongue against her lips, inviting her to open her mouth, and she surrendered willingly. When their tongues touched she moaned into his mouth, hating herself for showing so much weakness, but she couldn't help it. She had not realized how much she had missed this. It felt amazing, and before Rhett's raw strength and passionate caress, the trouble and pain of the past twenty-four hours seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and this heady ecstasy.
She raked her hands through his thick black hair and pressed herself against him, needing to be closer still, and his arms closed even more tightly around her in response. He roamed his hands over her torso, his fingers digging into her with just the right amount of pressure. She could feel the heat of his skin even through her dress and it sent another shiver down her spine. Her heart was beating wildly; his kisses had always been her undoing. He was all man - his smell, the hardness of his muscular body, his rough hands.
They kissed passionately, there in the shadows, forgetting the world around them. Scarlett felt strength and life itself surge through her, a welcome and earthy feeling after the tension of the past hours. She responded with everything she had, drinking her fill.
After a while, a beautiful, exquisite while, Rhett broke the kiss and held her tightly in his arms, staring into her eyes. She stared back. She had no idea what was going on between them. She was scared and unsure what to do with this new desire to be close to him. But it was exciting, thrilling even. He was thrilling. He was danger and power incarnate, and the challenge he presented was too great a temptation for a woman like her to resist.
"Scarlett," Rhett whispered against her lips, gazing at her with glazed eyes. His breath was coming in short gasps, his heart still beating strongly, but it was a steadier rhythm now, strangely soothing.
After another minute or so, he kissed her again before his talented lips started wandering from her mouth to her jaw and down to her neck, pressing feather-light kisses on her sensitive skin. Scarlett arched her back, her head falling to the side to give him better access to her throat. She was losing control. Something, some kind of barrier she had erected long ago, was beginning to fall to pieces inside of her and she was sure that if this went on for much longer, she wouldn't be able to resist him if he wanted to take her to her bedroom. This confused her. She had never been one to crave that kind of intimacy. It had never been unpleasant with him, no – he had touched her gently and made her feel good. But she had never really craved his touch, initiated their lovemaking or openly welcomed his advances. She was not that kind of woman. She had done her duty, kept her side of the bargain - her body for his money. Indeed, sometimes she had enjoyed his caresses, the warmth of him and his mere presence. But never, never had she felt such a burning need before, such an overpowering desire to have him touch her and make her forget. She resented this power he now wielded over her, but she was unable to tear herself away from him. What did he want from her? What did she want from him? She couldn't let this happen, could she? She did not know. The only anchor in this land of confusion were his lips, demanding, tender, intoxicating, like a glass of premium brandy downed with one gulp. And she knew that Rhett, too, could cause a severe headache.
His right hand, which had been roaming her back until now, suddenly began to move up her waist until it reached her left breast. Scarlett gasped involuntarily, making him smile slightly. His reaction annoyed her but still she didn't pull away. She couldn't.
"Am I making you shiver, darling?" He whispered into her ear, sucking at the sensitive lobe. Scarlett could only whimper helplessly in response, making him laugh lightly. She clawed at his broad shoulders, desperate not to moan with pleasure. And on the landing, of all places? If anyone saw them... But God, she was so weak in his embrace. What was happening to her?
His left hand holding her head in place, he slid the one cupping her breast down her side until it reached her hip. And then she gasped in shock as he reached behind her and squeezed her buttocks possessively. She wanted to shove him away, she wanted to scream bloody murder, but more than that she wanted him never to stop. His grip caused her nether regions to bump indecently against his upper thighs, and she let out another sound that could not possibly have escaped Scarlett O'Haras throat. This was downright sinful. Sinful... and marvellous.
He gave a chuckle and she felt it rumble through his chest. "Could Ashley do the same to you?" he drawled slowly, his hand giving her behind another squeeze.
She froze in his arms.
How dare he?
And suddenly it all came crashing down on her, the things she had been pushing away. Ashley's betrayal, his hideous actions. And now this. Rhett touching and treating her like a whore. Like one of the nasty creatures he consorted with, just like Ashley. If what the gossips said was true, he was even more of a whoremonger than Ashley had ever been. She remembered that he owned Belle Watling's house.
How in God's name had she managed to push these facts out of her mind for so long? Why on earth had she let him kiss her like that and manhandle her like she was one of his common whores, ever comfortable to his pleasure? Well, she would teach him. Another unwelcome memory suddenly came to her – how, years ago, she had been infuriated upon finding his initials, R.K.B., embroidered on the handkerchief that Watling creature had wrapped her donation to the hospital in. How she had thrown the contaminated thing into the fire, fuming with rage. Right now, the same rage was coursing through her veins. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to kiss him, hard. She wanted to kill him.
"How dare you?" She hissed, ripping herself out of his embrace and pushing him away with all the force she could muster. He stumbled backwards, eyes passion-glazed and confused as he looked at her.
"What -" he began, but she wouldn't have it, all passion, all willingness to surrender replaced by seething hate.
"How dare you bring him up now?" Her chest was heaving frantically. "You're no better than him, you low-down cad! You're consorting with those nasty wenches, too!" The ugly words left a vile taste in her mouth, but she was too angry to care. How could he? How could he kiss her with so much passion and then bring up Ashley again? And how could he pretend to be better than Ashley? Damn him. He was a swine.
She realized that he was looking intently at her, and met his gaze with her scorching one.
"So you know?" He asked quickly, grabbing her arm once more. She violently shoved him away, but he continued staring at her.
"Know what?" she hissed, curious in spite of herself, even in the bottomless depths of rage.
"You know what he's been doing at Belle's?" His eyes were bright and alert, as if her answer meant a great deal to him.
She stared back, trying to make sense of his words. What was he saying? That he … that he knew, too? But that couldn't be.
"I – yes," she finally managed to say, too baffled to manage an angry voice. "I know what he's done." Why was he looking at her like that, like... like he knew what she knew? Why the hell –
"How?" Rhett's urging voice interrupted her attempt at figuring out this mess. He seemed tense, agitated even. What was his game? "How did you find out?"
He moved as if to touch her again, but she only glared hotly at him and his hand dropped. But his gaze lingered on her, hard, demanding. Well, if he wanted to know so badly, she would tell him. She was beyond shame, couldn't care less what he might think of her if she told him.
"I saw him," she blurted out. "I went for a walk last night, if you must know," she added, lifting her chin in defiance. "Somehow I lost my way and before I knew how, I was in front of that Watling creature's house. There was a man. I – I didn't know who he was. But then the moon came up and I could see a bit of his face. I – it was him. It was Ashley." The words came quickly, almost against her own volition. It had always been like this with Rhett.
"What did you do?" He wanted to know.
She gave a mirthless little laugh. "At first I refused to believe it. But then ... somehow, I decided to go after him. To make sure it was really him. I followed him and I listened as he talked to... to that Watling creature." Her mouth twisted angrily. "And then he went inside, and I dragged myself home. I was tired, so very tired." She finished lamely, a sigh escaping her lips.
"I see." Rhett said, shoving his hands deeply into his pocket.
Her head snapped up, and she remembered what she had been so desperate to figure out before.
"You do?" She asked angrily. "Why did you ask me if I knew, Rhett? Did you mean... I mean... " Suddenly, something dawned on her and she almost gasped.
"Do you mean to say that you knew... before I did? You knew he was a … a regular at Belle's?" Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears.
"Shh," Rhett intoned, his eyes scanning their surroundings. But she wouldn't have it.
"Tell me, Rhett. Tell me or I'll scream."
"Yes, I knew." He said bluntly. "But I had no idea up until last night – I give you my word. My word as a man of honour," he added with a wry smirk. "My finding out about it was, err – a coincidence, so to speak."
"A coincidence?" She balled her fists.
"Yes." He raised his dark brows and swiftly, cruelly, added, "I caught him in the act – well, not quite - I was a trifle too early. But I wouldn't want to offend your sensibilities with any more details. In any case, I caught him as good as in flagrante delicto – can you imagine my surprise, my dear? It sure was a sight to be seen. So much for the sacrosanctity of our little gentleman." He spat the word like it was a curse whilst grinning deviously at her confused expression. Must he always use words that she did not understand? It made her feel stupid and inferior.
By now she was fuming with rage, only the fact that they were still within earshot of the servants keeping her from screaming out loud. They had probably heard everything anyway, but still. She wouldn't scream like a banshee. She wouldn't give Rhett the satisfaction.
"What did you – what did you do to him?" She spat out.
He laughed dismissively. "What do you think? Oh, don't worry. I didn't punch him. But I'm afraid I had to order him out of the establishment. He'll never go back there. I made sure of that."
"How?"
A long pause followed during which he simply looked at her, as if pondering how much she could take.
"I told him to tell you his dirty little secret or I would find a way to blacken his reputation."
She stared at him in shock. "Oh Mother of God," she breathed finally. "You - you blackmailed him?"
He shrugged carelessly. "What if I did?"
She sucked in a sharp breath at his audacity. "Why would you do that?"
"I have my reasons. You wouldn't understand."
"No, I wouldn't," she spat. "I most certainly wouldn't. Why do you hate him so much, Rhett? Why? If -" she searched for the right words, "if you had gone through with that, you would have hurt Melly, too."
"Oh, spare me your indignation, Scarlett." His eyes darkened visibly and she almost recoiled. "Until a few hours ago you would have rejoiced at seeing Miss Melly ruined and hurting. Or am I wrong?"
When she said nothing, he laughed jeeringly. She wanted to scratch his eyes out.
"I'm not saying that I would have gone through with it," he went on. "I have deep respect for Mrs. Wilkes. But I knew what I needed to do at that moment to make sure her husband would talk. I was convinced that he would go to you eventually and spit it all out. I still think he would have approached you at some point. He had no choice, after all. But I see now that you beat him to the punch. Never one to be bested, are you, my darling?"
"Oh," she breathed, having difficulty to breathe regularly. "Oh you – you cad!"
So he had run into Ashley at Belle's? Even she had to admit that it was ridiculous. But blackmail! Why? Why had he done it? What could he possibly have gained from it? Never analytical, she did not grasp that it had been an act born out of desperation, jealousy, and love. She only knew that he had played nasty tricks on her before, and she did not trust him.
She did not know why she cared so much, but it riled her up that he would treat Ashley in such a way, even going so far as to resort to blackmail. It upset her because of what could have happened to Melanie and Ashley if Rhett had gone through with his threat and tarnished Ashley's reputation for good. With enough courage one can do without a reputation, his smug words rang in her ears, and she thought her head would burst. Well, some people, like Melanie and Ashley, could not do without a reputation. It was everything to them and just about everything they had left in a conquered land. That, and their honour. And although she, of all people, had good reasons to wish for Ashley to be exposed, ultimately she would not wish that fate on him.
Deep down inside her, she sensed the first stirrings of contempt she always felt for the weak, although part of her rebelled vehemently against the idea that Ashley, whom she had loved and idolized for so long, could be anything but smart and strong. But it was a fact that he had acted like a coward towards her for so many years. And if Rhett was saying the truth, Ashley was even more of a coward because he hadn't had enough gumption to confess his secret of his own volition. No, she had been the one to pry it out of him. Damn him, too.
"Well?" Rhett's voice tore her out of her reverie.
He looked at her with those infuriating eyebrows raised and she wondered what he was thinking. Why was he being so nasty? He had been so soothing, so ardent before. God, but she hated him. She did not want to look at him and she did not want to think about him. But her mind knew no mercy, and another unwelcome realization hit her forcefully. His treatment of Ashley also riled her up because – because to her, it implied that he had intended to get back at her in some way, to make her feel bad.
"You wanted him to tell me so that you could pay me back, didn't you?" She wanted to know. "You wanted me to see that you were right all along. Well, you got what you wanted, Rhett. I know now. I know how much time I've wasted on a man who never, ever loved me. Are you happy now?"
He shrugged and said nonchalantly, "Don't flatter yourself, Scarlett. Why should I set such great store on getting back at you? Why would I care if you love him or not? Did you not so rightly outline earlier on that I'm not averse to finding compensation for your... charms at Belle's?"
Her mouth gaped open. It was too much. How dare he speak to her in such a way? How could he say such things to her? Did he care so little that he would brag about his nasty conquests to her?
Seeing her shocked and hurt expression, something in his face changed and he looked almost guilty, as if he hadn't meant a word. But it was too late. A line had been crossed and there was no going back.
He took a step forward, as if to lay a hand on her arm, but she pushed him away. She felt cheap and betrayed, and the only way to deal with this pain and humiliation was to get back at him somehow. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, even if she couldn't do it with words. And so, with the same passion with which she had kissed him before, she now raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face, the stinging sound startling them both. She did not care if the servants heard anything.
"Ah," he breathed, but there was a fire in his eyes. As if, in spite of it all, her outburst excited him. Instead of keeping his distance, he reached out again and took hold of the hand that had slapped him.
"Scarlett, listen, I -"
"Don't you touch me," she ripped her hand out of his grasp. "Don't you ever touch me again. I'm not one of your whores, damn you!"
He swallowed visibly. "Darling, I didn't mean - "
"I'm not your darling!" She spat, taking a perverse pleasure in his stricken expression. "And don't you tell me you didn't mean it. It's all true and you are a varmint. Do you think I don't know that you own Belle Watling's house? Do you think I don't know that you spend most nights with her? I know you consort with that nasty wench!"
Something dark entered his eyes at her stinging insult, the guilty look gone immediately. "Stop it, Scarlett. You don't know what you're saying."
She let out a biting laugh. "Who are you to order me to be quiet, Rhett Butler? I'll do as I please and - "
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, a warning in his eyes. "No, you won't, damn you." His lips twitched. "You'll listen." He stared her down until her gaze finally wavered under his and she lowered her eyes, unable to look at him any longer.
"You're right, Scarlett. I'm not better than Ashley when it comes to my nightly pastimes. I've slept with whores. I've slept with hundreds of them." He smiled wickedly at her, causing her skin to crawl. She was trembling with anger at his vulgar outburst.
"I don't want to hear it -"
"You will listen," he interrupted. "It's true that I go to Belle's. Regularly. She's a kind woman and more of a companion than you've ever been. And yes, goddammit, I've been with her and dozens of her girls."
Her eyes flew to his swarthy face, wide and incredulous. Listening to his taunting words hurt more than she could have ever imagined. Why was he doing this? And why did she care? Why did she care?
"Let me go, you brute," was all she managed to say, trying to sound indignant, but her voice was shaking. "I won't stand here and let you insult me."
"Insult you?" He raised one of his dark brows in that taunting manner that never failed to provoke her and let go of her wrist, instead grabbing her shoulders with his large hands. "I'm not insulting you, my dear. I'm telling you the truth. Belle is a gentle soul, both sweet and generous. Can you say the same for yourself?" When she did not answer, he sneered at her. "No, you can't. And yet... It's strange, really. Although you two are so different, I've always thought you had a lot in common. Both hard-headed business women, shrewd, successful – but she has a heart, Scarlett. And she's honest."
"Oh," she hissed through gritted teeth, beyond infuriated by the comparison. "You dare -"
But he didn't let her go on, smoothly overlooking her reaction. "Yes, I dare. As for my nightly whereabouts," he went on as nonchalantly as if they were talking about the weather or some other mundane topic, "you knew. You've always known, haven't you, my darling little wife? In some dark place of your heart, or whatever it is in that chest of yours that pumps blood through your veins. You've always known. Only you've been too much of a coward to admit it to yourself or ask me straight away. Why haven't you? I would have told you. I wouldn't have kept you in the dark."
She said nothing.
"You want to know why I do it?" He went on, an edge to his voice. He shook her shoulders. "You want to know why I go to Belle's and bed whores, Scarlett?"
Her lips trembling, she made an effort to come up with a cutting reply, but nothing came to mind. Instead, out of the blue, her frayed nerves finally gave way under the strain of the long day, and she started to cry, unable to keep the tears from flowing and her body from shuddering. Mortified, she lowered her head and focused on Rhett's polished black boots. His hands fell from her shoulders and, in spite of herself, she immediately regretted the loss of their warmth. She prayed inwardly that he would not mock her. If he did, she would die right on the spot. She couldn't stand it, not now, after he had kissed her and made her feel good, only to destroy it all by being so hateful and mean afterwards.
She heard him take a deep breath as if to say something and braced herself for a stinging remark that would finish her off, but it never came. Instead, to her infinite surprise, he raised his hands and gently cupped her face once more, his thumbs gently stroking her temples. She stared up at him, confused, hurt, tired. Tears ran down her face, and he gently traced the trail of one of them only to brush the tiny pearl away where it had settled on her chin, saving it from the plunge.
"Shhh," he murmured low. "Hush, my darling. Please, don't cry."
When her tears did not cease, he drew her close and his arms sneaked around her once more. For a fleeting moment she fought him, thinking she owed it to herself. He had humiliated her, insulted her. He had openly admitted that he was unfaithful to her. He had blackmailed Ashley and he had compared her to that Watling creature and found her, his wife, wanting. But somehow it didn't quite matter just now. She was too weary and exhausted to keep up her half-hearted protest, and so she gratefully rested her head against his chest. Breathing in his familiar smell, she let him hold her, listening to his velvety voice as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.
"Don't cry, honey. It's all right. Everything's going to be all right, I promise. Shhh."
Even in her despair and fatigue, she marvelled at him. How could he go from ardent lover to cruel accuser to comforting friend? She did not know, she did not understand. She despised him for the things he had just said to her. But she needed him, too.
"Hold me, Rhett," she whispered, too confused and tired to care if she sounded weak. Even if he had hurt and upset her, he was the only one left to console her, the only steady thing in a fickle world.
"My darling," came his swift reply, and he pulled her even closer. His chest felt strong under her cheek, like a bulwark against the storm.
Leaning into him, she remembered that no place on earth ever felt safer than the circle of his arms. He could be so mean and nasty, but also so tender and soothing. She recalled the odd feeling of remorse and regret that had come over her at the mills upon realizing that she had sacrificed all of this for Ashley's sake – the comfort of Rhett's embrace, the tender touch of his hands. She remembered, too, how bitterly she had regretted her decision immediately after she'd told him she no longer desired his presence in her room. But what to make of it all, she did not know.
"Shh," he murmured again. "Don't cry, darling. I've got you."
I've got you...
His last words rang a bell, as if she'd heard them before. Where? When? She felt like she should know, like it was important to remember when he had told her this before. But her brain was too muddled. Suddenly she was tired, so very tired. All she wanted to do was rest her head on her pillow and sleep tight, leaving it all behind for a few blissful hours.
He seemed to sense her fatigue, as he always noticed everything, and patted her back gently, drawing lazy circles with his fingers every now and then. When she tried in vain to stifle a yawn against his chest, he drew away a little and smiled a mocking but somehow gentle smile.
"You're tired." He stated matter-of-factly.
Before she knew how, he had swept her up in his arms and was carrying her down the hall in the direction of her room. Scarlett did not protest, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his unyielding chest. The luxurious material of his tailored suit felt nice against her cheek, and he smelled of cologne, horses and tobacco – a comforting smell.
He halted in front of her door, as if unsure whether to open it or not. She could feel his muscles tense; there was something unspoken in the air. This was the room she'd banished him from, for the sake of her foolish promise to Ashley. He had not crossed that threshold for more than two years, yielding to her selfish and cruel demand to leave her alone. Scarlett was not quite sure where she stood with him – in fact, she had no idea whatsoever – but she did know that something had changed between them, even if only a little. And she did know that she was ashamed for banishing him from her room. She prayed inwardly that he wouldn't put her back on her feet and leave, and her fingers involuntarily curled in his neck. She looked up at him. He looked down at her, probably reading her thoughts as he usually did. For once, she did not care.
And then he looked straight ahead and reached for the doorknob.
The door flew open and he stepped over the threshold. His jaw tightened for a fleeting moment as his eyes scanned the room, and Scarlett almost expected a stinging remark about her banishing him from her "sanctuary", as he liked to call it, in an attempt to please a man who did not even love her. But he said nothing.
Instead, he walked over to the bed and put her down gently. He rested his hands on her waist, steadying her, and peered curiously into her eyes. An odd silence surrounded them.
She realized how close he was, and with difficulty she suppressed a tremble. Her arms were still around his neck, the heat of his body engulfing her. It was inviting, intoxicating even, and she felt the strange urge to kiss him once more, still shivering inwardly from the memory of his rough and ardent caresses.
But she was tired, too, so very tired. She did not think she could handle it now - neither his touch nor her own needs. She could not yet deal with what all of this might imply, and she was afraid of the possible consequences. No, now was not the time. Too potent was her desire for sleep, too great her longing to rest and postpone any kind of contemplation. And so she allowed her fatigue to pour over the embers of the burning desire Rhett had awoken in her on the landing, and her body went limp against his, all tension fading from her limbs.
He let out a breath that sounded almost disappointed to her, but she couldn't be sure. Her brain was too muffled.
"Rhett, I -" she began, feeling like she needed to explain herself, but he did not let her finish.
Wordlessly, he turned her around and began working on the buttons of her dress. She tensed in spite of her fatigue, fearing for a moment that he would not heed her silent plea to leave her alone. But there was no heat in his touch, she suddenly realized with a twinge of feminine disappointment. Was she wrong after all? Did he not want her? But no, he had definitely wanted her on the landing... Then why... Never mind, she told herself. For the most part, she was relieved that he seemed to understand or was at least willing to comply with her wishes.
She stood still, waiting breathlessly for him to finish. It felt strange to let him touch her so intimately, even if he was only helping her undress. It was strangely... familiar. Comforting. And very, very disconcerting.
Eventually, her dress fell to the ground, and the corset followed soon after. Seemingly sensing Scarlett's unease, Rhett lifted the bed cover and made a gesture for her to crawl under it. Hurriedly, she complied, not bothering to look around for a nightgown and choosing to sleep in her undergarments instead. He let go of the coverlet and she drew it up to her chin in an attempt at modesty, suddenly terribly unsure of herself.
He gave her the tiniest of smirks, completely aware of her antics, and she frowned. She opened her mouth to say something, but for the life of her, she did not know what to say. She was unable to come up with anything. Instead, a yawn escaped her mouth, and she tiredly sank back into the pillows. Drowsily, she gazed up at him, half-expecting him to mock her. But, once again, she was in for a surprise.
He bent down and tucked her in gently, like one would a child. His touch was light, nothing now remaining of the passion he had met her with on the landing. His gentleness confused her, but then again, when had she ever understood anything about him? And she was too tired now to figure him out. But she was grateful.
"Thank you," she whispered, yawning again.
He smiled, his eyes perhaps a little more guarded than before, but still brimming with kindness.
"You're tired, Scarlett. Sleep. I'll let Mammy know you won't require dinner anymore." He gave a light laugh.
She smiled a little in return, but sleep was already claiming her, and soon her lids fell shut.
Tired... so tired.
Just before she drifted off, it was to her as if a hand lightly stroked her cheek and soft lips brushed her temple.
That night the dream came to her again.
The wasteland, vast and endless. Ashley and her, standing on the edge of the abyss. The apathy in his eyes as he told her that there was no future for the two of them.
Her accident, the fear of death.
And then the stranger was there once more, pulling her to safety, his arms her salvation.
"I've got you."
She leaned into him, resting her tired head against his strong chest. He stroked her hair gently, as he had done last time, and whispered soothing words into her ear, his voice sounding strangely familiar. She breathed in his comforting scent, feeling safe and whole in his embrace.
And slowly it dawned on her that she knew this man, had found comfort in his arms many times before, and always would. He was strong, much stronger than Ashley. Yes, she knew him... didn't she?
She looked up at him and caught sight of his strong jawline, but just as he lowered his head to return her curious stare, the scene shifted, and she was torn out of his embrace and the wasteland itself.
She cried out in protest, cursing fate and the powers that were toying with her in such a careless manner, taking her away from her anonymous saviour and robbing her of the chance to learn his true identity. And yet, even as she was thrown into some white and shapeless void, somewhere in the land of sleep, she could recall his gentle touch, the soothing quality of his voice, whispering,"I've got you".
Would she ever find out who he was?
She did not return to the wasteland in the hours after that. Yet dreamless her sleep was not, for she longed to go back and see her saviour's face. She would even face Ashley again and bear his rejection and cowardice, only to be saved by that other man, the kind stranger.
Ever since the end of her girlhood, those carefree days at Tara, she had longed to find someone who was stronger than her, someone with the power to soothe and support her, not the other way around. In her folly, she had persuaded herself that Ashley was that person. But he was not and had never been, and it was agitating and sad, but it did not hurt that much. Strange though it was, it hurt more to be parted from the stranger, who was both tender and strong. She realized dimly that if only she could find out who he was, she would be safe. Safe forever.
"I've got you..."
She would find out who he was eventually, she promised to herself. She would return to the wasteland at some time or another, and then she would look into his eyes and find the same strength and affection there she had felt in his every touch.
Yes, she would figure it out. But not tonight... No, not tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would be able to make more sense of all of this. Right now, she needed to sleep, sleep till the morning light.
She would think about it tomorrow.
Author's note: Phew... looong chapter! Hope you don't mind. Thanks for all the positive feedback by the way. So glad you like this story.
I'll definitely not be able to post the next chapter before April since I've got tons of stuff to do for uni and I also have a couple of other things planned, which is why I won't bother to write much. Definitely want to wrap this whole thing up this year, though. So yeah, next chapter in April! Be well and thanks again.