Chapter III

Afternoon naps were a custom of the country and never were they so necessary as on the all-day parties, beginning early in the morning and culminating in a ball. For half an hour, the girls would chatter and laugh and then the servants would pull the shutters and in the warm half-gloom the talk would die to whispers and finally expire in silence broken only by soft regular breathing...

... Scarlett had been the centre of attention in that half hour, as all the girls demanded to know every word Mr. Rhett Butler, formerly of Charleston, had said to her. Eventually, the talk died down and the room was filled with the sounds of soft, even breathing as the girls dropped off to sleep. Scarlett had somehow found herself sleeping beside Melanie Hamilton of all creatures. To Scarlett's consternation, Melanie was the sweetest, most complimentary of creatures, so much so, that Scarlett found herself hard pressed to hate her. Funny, that only a day or two before she may have found it easy.

It was later, as sleep evaded her that Scarlett's mind finally came around to Ashley. With a start, she realized she'd hardly spared him a thought all day, consumed as she'd been with the handsome stranger Rhett Butler. She had still not thought of her father's words from the day before, though they had been silently festering in her mind from the moment they'd been uttered. Gerald had laid before her every imperfection, every doubt that had ever nagged her, every fact that, had she been more capable of introspection, would have long since led to the realization that Ashley was not the man for her.

Oh, she couldn't stand it! She'd loved Ashley for years and that was that! And she had to tell him, now, today, before he announced his engagement to Melanie, just in case... just in case...

What Scarlett was hoping for as she crept down the Twelve Oaks staircase some minutes later she wasn't sure. But as she saw Ashley slip into the library, it was the easiest thing in the world to slip in after him and close the door behind her with a resounding click.

"Scarlett!" He exclaimed, coming forward to take her hands and draw her into the room.

"Why aren't you upstairs napping with the other girls?"

"I... I have something to tell you," she whispered, damning the uncertainty in her voice. Oh, what was she doing?

"Well go on then," Ashley smiled, still standing at attention in front of her. Scarlett's mind unwittingly flew to the casual, relaxed elegance of Rhett Butler, and how handsome he had looked reclined against a tree.

"What is it Scarlett?" Ashley asked when she did not speak. "A secret to tell me?"

"Yes... yes, a secret," Scarlett heard her voice as if it were very far away, hardly knowing the words that were slipping from her lips. "I... I think... Oh Ashley, I think I love you!"

The words were out now, hovering in the air between them, leaving Scarlett wishing she could snatch them back and leave them forever unspoken.

"Isn't it enough that you've collected every other man's heart here today?" He said, his eyes averted, none of the usual teasing, lilting tone in his voice. "Do you want to make it unanimous? Well, you've always had my heart, you know. You cut your teeth on it."

"I've... I've loved you for years... you know?" Scarlett gushed without thought, only wanting to make this moment right some how. "And I..."

"You must not say these things Scarlett!" Ashley exclaimed, striding away from her, his hands raking through his usually well-groomed hair. "You mustn't! You don't mean them. You'll hate yourself for saying them and you'll hate me for hearing them. And I couldn't bear for you to hate me, my dearest friend."

Friend. The word echoed in Scarlett's head. Never before had a man called her his friend before. She suddenly felt vaguely ill.

"Don't... don't you care about me?" She demanded.

"Oh yes Scarlett, I care," Ashley replied sadly. "I care a great deal. And a great deal more than I ought."

"But..." Scarlett's head was spinning, the words coming out of Ashley's mouth made no sense to her. "But you don't want to marry me?"

"I thought you knew. I thought everybody knew. I'm going to marry Melanie, it's to be announced tonight," he replied.

"It's true?" Scarlett gasped, her hand flying to her throat as her head spun. Ashley was by her side in a moment, leading her to a low velvet chair, settling himself on the hassock at her feet, pressing her hands firmly in his own. "But... you just said you cared for me?"

A look of pain crossed Ashley's features. "I ought not have said it."

"Is it true?"

"How could I not care for you, dearest Scarlett? You, who have all the passion for life that I have not. You, who has grown into a fiery, spirited young woman, the companion of my childhood years! Yes, I care for you Scarlett, but it is not enough."

"But... I think I love you..."

"Oh Scarlett, please!" He moaned, pressing her hand more tightly, desperately. "Don't say such things. Surely you must know that a marriage between us could never work. Not between two people as different as we. You would want all of a man Scarlett, his body, his heart, his soul, his thoughts. And if you don't have them you would be miserable. And I couldn't give you all of me, I couldn't give all of me to anyone. And Scarlett, I don't want all of you either. I can't be entrusted with your most sacred of elements."

"My virtue?" She whispered, her cheeks flaming at saying such a thing aloud.

"You mind and thoughts and soul, dear girl," Ashley corrected gently. "If we were to marry you would grow to hate me in time, resent me for all I have taken and all I had refused to give. And I could never stand for you to hate me, my dearest Scarlett."

"And Melanie... she is like you?"

"We are the same Scarlett," Ashley replied. "She is a part of my blood, and we understand each other. I believe we shall make each other happy."

"But I couldn't make you happy," Scarlett agreed resignedly, her lower lip trembling dramatically, tears moistening her sooty lashes, making her the most beautiful and tempting picture a man could ever see.

"Oh Scarlett!" A second later she was gathered in Ashley's arms, pressed against his chest, something she had always dreamt of. And yet... something about his small, scholars frame didn't feel right to her.

"I thought you were going to marry me," she cried, flushing with embarrassment and sheer mortification. Oh that she had listened to Mammy and Ellen's admonishments and kept her mouth closed! Anything to spare herself the agony of having exposed herself to ridicule and the sure knowledge she now had, that Ashley could never, would never love her. Gerald was right; they were far too different to ever make a marriage work.

Oh, the agony of crushed hopes and scattered dreams! Her future lay before her now, a blank book waiting to be filled and she knew not the words to fill it with, nor in which direction to begin looking for them.

"Be fair Scarlett," Ashley begged. "Did I ever..."

"No," she gasped, anger filling her, anger at herself, for her own wilful blindness and stupidity. "And I was too foolish to see it. I thought when we rode together, when you came calling, every week without fail... oh what a fool you are Scarlett O'Hara!"

"Not a fool Scarlett," Ashley said gently. "Never a fool. Hate me, please. Call me a cad for leading you on and for toying with your emotions, but please, don't blame yourself dear one!"

A small part of her was angry with Ashley. For surely he could have made his intentions better known, played less the part of the lover and more the part of the family friend. To be sure, some of the agony she suffered now was his fault! But it was too hard to blame him, and much, much easier to blame herself.

Oh, she couldn't look at him! Not with the grey eyes she'd dreamt of looking at her so earnestly, so full of shame and sorrow.

"Ashley, I think you'd best get back to the party," she told him, in a voice full of steel, as she summoned what was left of her courage to banish her tears and draw herself to her feet. She wouldn't let him see her cry.

"Scarlett," he'd flinched at her words, her tone and the look of determination in her eyes. "Please, let us part as friends."

"For friends we shall always be," she replied, rather cynically, she continued on, unable to resist taking one last jab at the man who'd exposed her to adult life, adult decisions and the sincere pain of the real world. "Very well, Ashley, I wish you well. I truly hope you shall be satisfied with your decision."

"You must know that I wish you well, Scarlett," Ashley replied, pressing her hands again, far too tightly for comfort. "I would see you settled with a man like you. One who could give you all of himself and gladly accept all of you in return. That is my dearest wish for you my dear, only for your happiness."

"Goodbye Ashley," she turned away from the door, unwilling to watch him go.

At the sound of the door clicking shut behind her, Scarlett's frayed temper snapped. She muffled a shriek, stamping her feet in the manner of a small child until not even that would give vent to her feelings of frustration with her own foolishness. Her hand dropped to the little table beside her, fingering a tiny china rose-bowl on which two china cherubs smirked. She picked up the bowl and hurled it viciously across the room toward the fireplace. It barely cleared the tall back of the sofa and splintered with a little crash against the marble mantelpiece.

"This," said a voice from the depths of the sofa. "Is too much."

Never had Scarlett been so startled, so absolutely afraid in her life as she was in that moment. She gasped, and caught hold of the back of her chair, her knees going weak under her as Rhett Butler rose from the sofa where he had been lying and made her a bow of exaggerated politeness.

"Is it not enough that you have interrupted my nap, Miss O'Hara? Now you feel the need to endanger my life as well?"

Scarlett sank backwards into the chair, all her courage failing her. Lord Above! He had heard everything! She rallied enough to say –

"Sir, you should have made your presence known."

"Indeed?" His white teeth gleamed and his bold eyes laughed at her. "I believe, Miss O'Hara, that I was here first, thoughtful as I was, to remove myself from the barbecue as I believe I indicated to you that I would. Besides, had I revealed myself I would have missed the touching scene I was just privileged enough to overhear."

"Oh you...you - " Scarlett could not think of a bad enough name to call him. She drew herself up to her full height. "You, sir, are no gentleman!"

It was the ultimate of insults, and had she said it to Ashley, or one of the Tarleton's, or any other man of her acquaintance he would have been mortally offended. Rhett, however, laughed airily.

"An apt observation," he replied. "And you Miss, are no lady. No one can remain a lady after saying and doing what I have just overheard. However, never fear! Ladies have seldom held any charm for me. I know what they are thinking, but they never have the courage to saw what they think and that, in time, becomes a bore. But you, my dear Miss O'Hara, are a girl of rare spirit, a very admirable spirit, and should I be wearing my hat, I would take it off to you."

"Oh, how can you say such a thing?" Scarlett cried.

"Quite easily my dear," Rhett laughed again. "Until you've lost your reputation, you never realize what a burden it was or what freedom truly is."

"You talk scandalously!"

"Scandalously, and truly," Rhett bowed mockingly. "Tell me dear Scarlett, does it truly matter to you what others say about you? What the belles whisper about behind their fans and what the matrons cluck their tongues at?"

"Well... I, I..."

"Don't dodge my question, answer me now,"

"Oh, if you're going to pin me down - no! But a girl is supposed to mind."

"Take it from someone who long since gave up on listening to societies edicts," he leaned forward conspiratorially. "You're much better off, and you'll have much more fun, without them."

"Oh!" Scarlett gasped, blushing again; his penetrating gaze really did leave a girl with the most uncomfortable feeling of being undressed.

"Being a gentleman truly isn't all it's cracked up to be my dear," he told her, moving rather closer. "And, as I think you'll soon find out, neither is being a lady."

Scarlett's flush felt as if it ran the whole length of her body now and, had she cared to look, she would have seen her hands were shaking. She couldn't meet the dangerous, snapping eyes of the man now before her, and, for the first time in her life, she knew exactly how it was that women could fall victim to the charms of man.

'Yee-ayy-ee!" The shout ran out from below them, from the great lawn where the crowds still gathered and was quickly echoed by a dozen other voices, all raised in the same cry.

"Oh, what is going on?" Scarlett gasped, seizing any means for escape.

She fled the Library, startling as she saw the girls pouring down the staircase from the upstairs bedrooms. She flew to a window, watching as horse after horse tore up the grass that was India Wilkes pride, the unknown battle call still crying out.

"What is going on?" She wondered aloud again.

"Miss Scarlett... Miss Scarlett!" She turned at the sound of a voice calling her name. It was Charles Hamilton, hurrying towards her, his hair tussled and his face near carmine with excitement.

"Whatever is going on?" She queried aloud.

"Mr. Lincoln has called for men, soldiers - I mean, volunteers – seventy five thousand of them! It's war Miss O'Hara!"

War! War again, would she never hear the end of it?

"I can't decide now whether to go with Mr. Wade Hampton's South Carolina Legion or with the Atlanta Gate City Guard." He rambled on. "It will mean fighting... of course - "

"Mr. Hamilton," Scarlett interrupted sharply, looking out the window and seeing Honey Wilkes on the lawn, searching for someone, Charles most likely. Oh what a perfect opportunity to get him to let her alone! "Mr. Hamilton, Honey's searching for you – look!"

A look of confusion came across young Charles Hamilton's face. Honey? What had she to do with anything?

"Miss Scarlett," he stated again, unusually brave. "Would... would you wait for me?"

Scarlett looked up, wide-eyed, startled. God's nightgown! She'd barely spoken a word to this man in her life, and one smile that morning had him asking for her hand! How on Earth was she to absolve herself of this situation?

"I'm afraid, Mr. Hamilton," a swarthy, low voice came from directly behind Scarlett, causing her to jump. "That that will be quite impossible."

Rhett! Scarlett could have jumped for joy in that moment, or thrown her arms about his neck to thank him for coming to her rescue, as improper as it was.

"I believe I asked Miss O'Hara, sir," Charles Hamilton pulled himself up to his full height, a look of bulldog like determination crossing his handsome features as he stood up to a man so many years his senior.

"Yes, you did," Rhett stepped forward, positioning his body so it was angled to cover Scarlett, as if protecting her from Charles' gaze. "But you see sir, as Miss O'Hara has just done me the honour of agreeing to marry me, I believe I shall speak for her when I tell you that she is quite unable to wait for you." Then, in a movement that seemed as natural as breathing, he clasped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, bestowing on it the most tender of kisses, then smirking into her hand as he felt her pulse race accordingly.

Scarlett couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Marry him? Marry Rhett Butler, the man that was so much a scoundrel that he wasn't received? But, he'd never asked! What was going on?

"Oh," the look of utter devastation that crossed Charles Hamilton's face would have torn at Scarlett's heartstrings, had she not been so confused.

"Mr. Hamilton," Rhett called the young pup back as he went to walk away. "Miss Honey Wilkes is looking for you; you wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?"

"Honey," Charles breathed, light coming back into his eyes. "No, I wouldn't want to disappoint Honey..." he scuttled off, leaving Rhett and Scarlett quite alone.

The entire house party had scattered to the lawns now, the house was entirely deserted. Had Scarlett been more cognizant of the situation she was in, she may just have been afraid.

Instead, she sank to the bench seat set into the window, her hand at her throat, her feet quite unable to support her any longer.

"Come now Scarlett, don't be missish," Rhett grinned, taking hold of her hand and yanking her to her feet again. "I expect better of you, my dear,"

"I... you," Scarlett stuttered, quite unequal to speech. "You never asked me to marry you!"

"Quite right, my dear, how remiss of me," Rhett grinned sardonically. "It was rather useful in being rid of the young Mr. Hamilton though."

"Well, yes, thank you for that," Scarlett said begrudgingly. "But, Lord above Rhett Butler! What if Charles tells somebody? I'll be ruined!"

"Haven't I just told you my dear, that being a gentleman, or in your case, a lady, is vastly overrated?" He shrugged nonchalantly. "Besides dear Scarlett, your point is moot, as I absolutely intend to marry you."

Scarlett gasped, sinking to the window bench again, before Rhett tugged her to her feet once more.

"Why, what a cruel joke to play on little old me, Rhett Butler," the words fell from her lips, ingrained through years of flirting.

"It's no joke and you know it, so you can drop that Southern belle simper, it won't work on me," Rhett grinned darkly, reaching out and pulling her against his body. "Besides, now my honour is engaged so really, neither of us have a choice. We'll have to marry."

"You don't have any honour," spat Scarlett, incensed by his presumption.

"No indeed, I don't. But you still do, my dear, or so you seem to think. And I'd rather wager your family does as well."

"Ooh!" Scarlett huffed, all but stamping her feet in frustration with his obstinacy. "You're a cad Rhett Butler, to try and use my family against me like that to trap me into marrying you!"

"Trap you?" Rhett raised a hand to his breast as if her words had wounded him. "My dear Scarlett, nothing could be further from the truth. My dear, you ought to be begging me to marry you."

He was kissing her now and his moustache tickled her mouth. Kissing her with slow, hot lips that were so leisurely, as though he had the whole day before him. She had never been kissed like this. Never had the kisses of the Tarleton and Calvert boys made her go hot and cold and shaky like his kiss did. He bent her body backwards over his arm, as his lips travelled down her throat, then back up again. His arms were about her waist and shoulders and she felt the hard muscles of his thighs against her body, the buttons of his coat pressing into her breast. A wave tide of warm feeling, bewildering and frightening, swept over her, carrying her out of mind the time and place and circumstance. She was limp as a ragdoll in his arms, and the feeling of being held up by him was shockingly pleasant.

"Come Scarlett, say you'll marry me. Marry me just for the fun of it. I'll whisk you away to Paris and there'll be balls and parties every night. I'll shower you with jewels and gowns and lace stockings so fine you can see through them. And I'll never stop making love to you; I'll flirt with you when we're old and grey in our dotage."

His arms were around her again then, he bent her back against his arm kissing her with an intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth parted her lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she was kissing him back.

"Stop – please, I'm faint," she whispered, prying open her eyes. His were wide and blazing queerly and the tremor in his arms was frightening to her.

"I want to make you faint, I will make you faint... this is what you were made for!" He whispered harshly. His eyes were so close that they seemed enormous, filling her entire world. "Say yes! Say yes Scarlett!"

She whispered 'yes' before she had even thought, as if he had willed the word and she had spoken it without her own volition. Some small part of her mind told her that her life had just changed forever, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not so long as he kept kissing her.

He pulled away then, though she remained in his arms, her legs too weak to support her weight.

"You mean it?" He demanded his voice hoarse, his dark eyes almost shockingly bright. "You really mean it?"

"I mean it Rhett," she whispered, resting her head against his chest and thrilling at the too-quick thrumming of his heart. She looked up then, and was shocked by the appearance of the first look of honest pleasure she had ever seen on his face. Her already racing heart quickened again.

"Well come then Scarlett, my dear," he pressed a lingering kiss on her hand, before tucking it about the crook of his elbow. "We'd best go and meet with your father."