Author's note- thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm having such a good time with this story. I hope you're all enjoying it even half as much. As you know this wasn't ever supposed to be more than a one sit, but I'm so glad that after a decade it developed into more! Happy thanksgiving! Special thanks to misscyn for reading through and giving me the encouragement to really have fun with this chapter. Sorry, I do think this is far more of a cliffhanger than chapter five. Don't kill me for it!
PART SIX
Thankfully the weather was drier than it had been the previous day, and the streets were much less muddy than they had been. A brisk breeze was blowing through the town drying the mud. Scarlett carefully picked her way towards town, not bothering to hide from anyone since both Mammy and Aunt Pittypat knew where she was going. If the old busy bodies were going to gossip, let them. She didn't possess the energy to care. She was too weary from her cold to bother with deception. Thankfully that made her route a little more direct and shorter than yesterday's trek.
When she finally reached the destination, it was growing closer to the end of the day. The winter sky was already starting to darken as the sun had begun its descent. The ground was still littered with the many tents of the soldiers.
But this time Scarlett headed up the stairs without waiting for anyone to direct her. She knew that it would take some time for Rhett to be escorted to her, but maybe she could rest by the fire and warm her hands and feet. Despite the rest that she'd gotten, the walk from Aunt Pittypat's had been more than she needed.
The soldiers were as uncomfortable with her visit as they had been with the previous one. They didn't seem to know what to do with a woman in a man's world, especially their headquarters.
Scarlett leaned into the chair they had motioned for her to sit in as she waited for Rhett to be brought to her. Normally she would have stayed ramrod straight, her hands folded carefully in her lap, but she was more worn out from the trip than she'd imagined she would be. And she was surprised at how comfortable the seat was. Her head was swimming with her stuffiness and fatigue. Her eyes fluttered shut, and it seemed that no time had passed before she was startled to alertness to find Rhett standing before her. "My darling," He said with a smile. But he frowned as he reached out a hand to help her to her feet, eyeing her face suspiciously. "It is all right, they know that you are my intended."
She stood on unsteady feet, her head swimming, and Rhett's steadying arm was quickly around her as he gazed at her appraisingly. "Come, my dear." he added, as he led her to the room where they had previously met. "We have some things to discuss." He raised his hands to the officer's, "Don't worry, she hasn't brought me anything to help me escape." And at this the soldiers backed down, leaving them to their own company.
Rhett led her inside and shut the door behind them. He helped her into the nearest chair before finding a chair for himself. He perched on the edge of his seat, his knees nearly touching hers. Without missing a beat, he began questioning her, his eyes intent upon her face, " What's the matter, honey? You're flushed and your hands are clammy."
No one in the world could say that foolish word of endearment as caressingly as Rhett, even when he was joking, but he did not look as if he were joking now. She raised burning eyes to his face and somehow found comfort in the blank inscrutability she saw there. She did not know why this should be. Perhaps it was because, as he often said, they were so much alike. Sometimes she thought that all the people she had ever known were strangers except Rhett.
"I took a chill yesterday. It is just a cold, I'm sure. I'll be fine, Rhett." She dismissed, "What did you need to see me about? I came down here as quickly as I could to see you because the messenger seemed so insistent."
"I apologize for the urgency. I don't know how much time we have, but I need to know that you'll be alright, first." He pulled her hands between his, briefly rubbing them to warm her, and he then pulled her hands to his lips. "Scarlett, I am sorry that this isn't going quite the way that I planned. I wish that it was in a better setting." He chuckled derisively, "and that I was dressed in fine clothes. But the commander strangely wasn't willing to bring me my finest clothes." He then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You're too warm. You are feverish. You shouldn't be here. You should be in bed. I wish it hadn't been so urgent for you to be called down here, but unfortunately it is." He stepped backwards, away from her to study her face to see her reaction to the next words he would tell her. "We need to marry today. I've been informed that they plan to hang me tomorrow. They're simply allowing this wedding for me because of my connections, and possibly because even the dead man walking get one last feast. They see it as mercy to allow me to see you again."
Her eyes grew wide and once again filled with tears, "No, they can't hang you." Her voice rising in a strangled cry. "Don't let them hang you. They can't do this!" She rose and grabbed his hands, holding on to him as if he was life and salvation itself.
"Hush," he said, disentangling her frantic grip and pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket. "Wipe your face. There is no sense in you tearing yourself to pieces this way. I knew it was a possibility, and of course I hoped that someone would intervene first, but I knew that it might happen."
He seemed so at peace with his imminent death, and she studied him briefly before smiling at his ability to pull a handkerchief from thin air. "How is it that you've managed to have a handkerchief for me, even here?" She asked with a dry chuckle, trying to bring some lightness to a situation that was lacking so much levity. But She took the handkerchief and wiped her damp cheeks, stealing back a little control and composure. He looked so resolute even the slight twist of his mouth was comforting as though it proved her agony and confusion unwarranted.
"Feel better now?" He quizzed, and at her nod he continued after a brief moment, while he stared into her face as he held her hands within his own larger ones. He then dropped them and rose, moving to the small window, and stood staring out it. Her head jerked up and she watched him, noting a defeat in the set of his shoulders that she had never before witnessed. He really believed that he was going to hang. "Rhett?" her voice trembled slightly as she called to him. "Rhett. They can't. They won't. Did they find more evidence against you? Can't someone stop them?"
"They most assuredly will hang me. Unless one of my contacts intervenes, this is the last sunset, I will get to enjoy." He said with finality. "I apologize for the melodramatics." He offered a wry grin, his mask slipping back into place. "This is the point I should be demanding a kiss as I did on the way out of Atlanta, you might be sending me off to the grave with your kisses on my mind."
"Don't be a skunk Rhett." She returned to watching him, trying to find the balance between the seriousness of the situation and his gallows humor.
"And I promised you that you'd be taken care of, even if they hang me." He turned towards her, "And even if I'm not a gentleman, I am a man of my word. So I've arranged for a justice of the peace to marry us shortly, as long as you don't object. I would have arranged for a priest, but they strangely prefer that their people not marry a godless heathen like me." He chuckled darkly, "this shouldn't slow you down for long. I'm sure it won't take you much time to find your third husband after I'm gone."
"Don't talk about that, it's not decent. I'm not sure that I want to marry ever again, but at this time, it seems that we have no choice." She twisted her hands together, "No, I don't think I'll marry again."
"Nonsense. Why?" He returned to the chair in front of her so that they were face to face.
"Oh, well—never mind why. I just don't like being married."
"But, my poor child, you've never really been married. How can you know? I'll admit you've had bad luck—married to a young boy for nothing but spite. Did you ever think of marrying—just for the fun of it?"
"Fun! Don't talk like a fool. There's no fun being married."
"No? Why not?"
A measure of calm had returned and with it all the natural bluntness which her illness brought to the surface, almost as though she were tipsy. She was too tired to stopper her thoughts.
"It's fun for men—though God knows why. I never could understand it. But all a woman gets out of it is something to eat and a lot of work and having to put up with a man's foolishness—and a baby every year."
He laughed so loudly that the sound echoed in the stillness and Scarlett heard the noises of soldiers moving in the main room outside the door.
"Hush! Someone will hear you! it isn't decent to laugh in a situation like this —hush your laughing. You know it's true. Fun! Fiddle-dee- dee!"
"I said you'd had bad luck and what you've just said proves it. You've been married to an inexperienced boy. And into the bargain I'll bet your mother told you that women must bear 'these things' because of the compensating joys of motherhood. Well, that's all wrong. Why not try marrying a fine young man who has a bad reputation and a way with women? It'll be fun." He paused for a moment, remembering the situation, "or it would be fun if we had a little more time to enjoy it."
"If you're right, it won't matter. It isn't as though we will have a wedding night. You are being coarse and conceited and I think this conversation has gone far enough. It's—it's quite vulgar."
"And quite enjoyable, too, isn't it? I'll wager you never discussed the marital relation with a man before, even Charles."
She scowled at him. Rhett knew too much. She wondered where he had learned all he knew about women. It wasn't decent.
"Don't frown, Scarlett. I wish that there was another option than urging instant matrimony because of our mutual situations."
"I haven't said I'd marry you right now. It isn't decent to even talk of such things at such a time. The only reason that people marry this quickly is if they've already been compromised."
"I've told you why I'm talking about them. I feel like my imminent hanging and the precarious circumstances of the taxes on Tara make it necessary. I'm going to die tomorrow, and I'm too ardent a lover to restrain my passion any longer. I wish that I was able to truly show you the depth of my passion. But perhaps I've been too precipitate in my wooing."
With a suddenness that startled her, he slid off the chair onto his knees and with one hand placed delicately over his heart, he recited rapidly:
"Forgive me for startling you with the impetuosity of my sentiments, my dear Scarlett—I mean, my dear Mrs. Hamilton. It cannot have escaped your notice that for some time past the friendship I have had in my heart for you has ripened into a deeper feeling, a feeling more beautiful, more pure, more sacred. Dare I name it you? Ah! It is love which makes me so bold!"
She rushed to him, swaying slightly and reached up tenderly, caressing his face. "One of your contacts will come through Rhett. You're too smart for them not to come through. You have a plan, don't you? You've got blackmail letters to be dispatched at the moment of your death. You'll be the ruin of hundreds. They can't hang you. Surely someone is smart enough to save you. This can't lick you!"
He smiled down at her, noting the passion and fear intermingled in her eyes. Her jaw was so stubbornly taut that it could cut glass. If he was executed, it wouldn't be from her lack of trying or her desire to save him from his fate. "Your face reminds me of the night we fled Atlanta. You were so determined that nothing would stop you from getting home and getting to the safety of your mother. I'm sorry that your mother was gone before you got there." He gazed at her half in humor and half in appreciation. "But no one or nothing was going to stop you."
Her words were clipped as she ground out, "I won't let them hang you." Her eyes glinted with the hardness of a diamond, "I won't let them."
"I appreciate your optimism, my dear. And I wish that this proposal was more romantic, more befitting the belle of Atlanta and Clayton county, but Scarlett, I still want you more than any woman I've ever met and now that I'm running out of time, I thought you should know it. I know that we've already discussed this, but I'm not certain you really believed me."
Scarlett jerked her hands away from his grasp and sprang to her feet.
"I—you are the most ill-bred man in the world, dragging me here at this time of all times with your filthy jokes about you being hung—I should have known you'd never change! If you had any decency— Will you never stop acting like it's all some great joke —"
"Do be quiet or you'll have the entire regiment of Yankees soldiers in here within a minute," he said, not rising but reaching up and taking both her fists. "I'm afraid you miss my point."
"Miss your point? I don't miss anything." She pulled against his grip. "Turn me loose and let me out of here. I can't believe that you'd give up like this, not you… you're the last one I'd imagine would do anything other than fighting to the bitter end. You're giving up just like Ashley!"
"Hush," he said. "Before I get dizzy from your back and forth, could you make up your mind? Am I too cavalier about my death and not taking it seriously enough or am I a coward that has simply given up like Ashley Wilkes?" She ducked her head and didn't respond, so he continued. "I am asking you to marry me, asking you to marry me today, in just a few minutes. Would you be convinced if I knelt down? I assure you that this isn't a game."
She said "Oh" breathlessly and sat down hard on the chair.
She stared at him, her mouth open, wondering if the fever was playing tricks on her mind, remembering senselessly his jibing: "My dear, I'm not a marrying man." She was delirious or he was crazy. But he did not look crazy. He looked as calm as though he were discussing the weather, and his smooth drawl fell on her ears with no particular emphasis.
"I always intended having you, Scarlett, since that first day I saw you at Twelve Oaks when you threw that vase and swore and proved that you weren't a lady. I always intended having you, one way or another. But as my time seems to be running out, I know this is the only time you'll be driven to me. And with the proverbial guillotine looming over me, I've run out of time. So I see I'll have to marry you now. The wolf is at the door, and I know that salvation could still sweep in at the last moment, and I'm not dead yet. But I'm not going to miss this one last opportunity to follow through with the promises that I made to you."
"Rhett Butler, is this one of your vile jokes? Everything has always been a game to you. You were jesting even as Atlanta was burning around our ears. You will get out of this! You can't be giving up! Someone will come through, I have to believe it. I can't think about it right now, or I'll go mad!" She watched his face, looking for any sign that he was only joking, but there was no jeering in his face. "You're serious?"
"I bare my soul, and you are suspicious! No, Scarlett, this is a bona fide honorable declaration. I admit that it's not in the best of timing, but I have a very good excuse for my lack of breeding. I'm at a bit of a brick wall, and I won't have a chance after tomorrow. I have run out of time to plan the perfect proposal befitting half a decade of courtship. Really, Scarlett, I can't go all my life, waiting to catch you desperate enough to marry a scoundrel like me."
He meant it. There was no doubt about it. Her mouth was dry as she assimilated this knowledge, and she swallowed and looked into his eyes, trying to find some clue. They were full of laughter but there was something else, deep in them, which she had never seen before, a gleam that defied her analysis. He sat easily, carelessly but she felt that he was watching her as alertly as a cat watches a mouse hole. There was a sense of leashed power straining beneath his calm that made her draw back, a little frightened.
He was actually asking her to marry him in Yankee headquarters, and seemingly not just to placate her panic at the situation; he was committing the incredible. Once she had planned how she would torment him should he ever propose, imagining as she had the many ways and things to say to demure when asked, as she had been greatly schooled in the art of turning down an unwanted suitor. Once she had thought that if he ever spoke those words she would humble him and make him feel her power and take a malicious pleasure in doing it. Now, he had spoken and the plans did not even occur to her, for he was no more in her power than he had ever been. In fact, he controlled the situation so completely that she was as flustered as a girl at her first proposal, and she could only blush and stammer.
"You were born to be married. Are you worried that it will be impossible to get over my death?" There was laughter in his eyes combined with a strange leaping light.
" Rhett, I—I don't know if I really love you, but I can't imagine marrying anyone after you either."
"That should be no drawback. I don't recall that love was prominent in your other venture. And it isn't as though this union will last long, even in comparison to your other marriage. Closer to two months is drastically longer than one unconsummated night, which is a complete shame." He grinned wolfishly, as he surveyed her slender frame.
"Oh, how can you talk of this?" She cried in frustration. " You should be using this time to tell me who I can contact to set you free, who might be able to delay or better yet stop them from hanging you, but instead you'd rather just make jokes while willingly walking to the gallows they're preparing for you!"
"Ever practical in the face of danger." His eyes gleaming at her unblinkingly.
"Rhett, I don't like for things to drag on. I'd rather tell you now. I'm going home to Tara soon, for as long as I can until Tara is saved or we are evicted. I want to go home for a long spell and—I—I don't ever want to get married again. I wish I didn't have to marry you, if I'm being honest. But I wish that you were free. I wish so many things."
"Come, Scarlett, you are no child, no schoolgirl to live in a childhood fantasy. You survived the war, and you know that nothing comes easily now. You know the hand we have both been dealt, we just have to accept it for what it is. I wish that I had some leverage so I could threaten something ridiculous like playing a guitar under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice to woo you and compromise you, so you'll have to marry me to save your reputation. But to be fair, we've been in plenty of compromising situations, and maybe I've had a change of heart about it. But time is of the essence." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin ruefully, hat is the real reason that you are hesitating? Once upon a time I would have blamed your infatuation with Ashley Wilkes, but I do think he's worked himself out of your favor."
Her face clouded. She had believed that she belonged to Ashley, forever and ever. She had never belonged to Charles, and could never really belong to Rhett, could she? Every part of her, almost everything she had ever done, striven after, attained, belonged to Ashley, or had belonged to Ashley, and were done because she had loved him. But Ashley's disloyalty to Tara and his readiness to give up without a fight has marred her view of him so completely that it was almost impossible to even recall her previous feelings for him in the same manner. Tara, she belonged to Tara, only Tara. And therefore she really has no reason to say no, even if marriage to Rhett only made it more likely that she would be able to save Tara – even without a guarantee.
She did not know that her face had changed, that reverie had brought a softness to her face which Rhett had never seen before. He looked at the slanting green eyes, wide and misty, and the tender curve of her lips and for a moment his breath stopped. Then that softness faded as she realized that her idealistic view of the past was gone. She'd finally been defeated.
"Honey, what's wrong?" He used the term again, caressing it as only he could.
She stared up at him, the defeat clear in her face. "Is all of this for naught? Should I just give up?"
He grabbed her shoulders and began shaking her "Scarlett O'Hara, you're a fool! You will not be defeated by this. You will find your way to rise. I might have failed myself, but I won't fail you." He swore, and then his arms were around her, as sure and hard as on the dark road to Tara, so long ago. She felt again the rush of helplessness, but a different kind than what she had just been feeling, this was a sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp. And everything else was blurred and drowned to nothingness. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking 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 knew that she was kissing him back.
"Stop—please, I'm faint!" she whispered, trying to turn her head weakly from him. He pressed her head back hard against his shoulder and she had a dizzy glimpse of his face. His eyes were wide and blazing queerly and the tremor in his arms frightened her.
"I want to make you faint. I will make you faint. You've had this coming to you for years. None of the fools you've known have kissed you like this—have they? Your precious Charles or Brent or Stuart or your stupid Ashley—"
And his mouth was on hers again and she surrendered without a struggle, too weak even to turn her head, without even the desire to turn it, her heart shaking her with its poundings, fear of his strength and her nerveless weakness sweeping her. What was he going to do? She would faint if he did not stop. If he would only stop—if he would never stop.
"Say Yes!" His mouth was poised above hers and his eyes were so close that they seemed enormous, filling the world. "Say Yes, damn you, or—"
She whispered "Yes" before she even thought. It was almost as if he had willed the word and she had spoken it without her own volition. But even as she spoke it, a sudden calm fell on her spirit, her head began to stop spinning and even the fatigue of the illness and fever was lessened. She had agreed to marry him today when she had had no intention of promising him that. She hardly knew how it had all come about but she was not sorry. It now seemed very natural that she had said Yes—almost as if by divine intervention, a hand stronger than hers was about her affairs, settling her problems for her.
He drew a quick breath as she spoke and bent as if to kiss her again and her eyes closed and her head fell back. But he drew back and she was faintly disappointed. It made her feel so strange to be kissed like this and yet there was something exciting about it.
He sat very still for a while holding her head against his shoulder and, as if by effort, the trembling of his arms ceased. He moved away from her a little and looked down at her. She opened her eyes and saw that the frightening glow had gone from his face. But somehow she could not meet his gaze and she dropped her eyes in a rush of tingling confusion.
When he spoke his voice was very calm.
"You meant it? You don't want to take it back?"
"No."
"It's not just because I've—what is the phrase?—'swept you off your feet' by my—er—ardor?"
She could not answer for she did not know what to say, nor could she meet his eyes. He put a hand under her chin and lifted her face.
"I told you once that I could stand anything from you except a lie. And now I want the truth. Just why did you say Yes?"
Still the words would not come, but, a measure of poise returning, she kept her eyes demurely down and tucked the corners of her mouth into a little smile.
"Look at me. Is it my money?"
"Why, Rhett! What a question!"
"Look up and don't try to sweet talk me. I'm not Charles or any of the County boys to be taken in by your fluttering lids. Is it my money?"
"Well—yes, of course that's a part of it, you know it is."
"A part?" He did not seem annoyed. He drew a swift breath and with an effort wiped from his eyes the eagerness her words had brought, an eagerness which she was too confused to see.
"Well," she floundered helplessly, "money does help, you know, Rhett. You had a glimpse of the shape that Tara has been. We barely have had enough to eke out an existence. But…" she groaned in frustration "I don't even know what I'm feeling. I can't even tell you. Because I don't rightly know myself. Every time that I start to think that I'm in love with you or you're in love with me, you do something so deplorable and despicable that I know that you can't possible love me and treat me as you do, and surely I can't be in love with you. It's nothing like what I felt for Ashley, or even Brent or Stuart l, and I really did think that marrying one of them was a possibility, though I didn't know how I'd choose between them. So I guess that I am fond of you and something more. And you're one of my very best friends, and the only person I can truly be myself with. Which is why I need you to keep fighting until the last possible moment."
"You're fond of me?"
"That's what you take from everything that I just said?" She asked in annoyance, "if I said I was madly in love with you, I'd be lying and what's more, you'd know it."
"Sometimes I think you carry your truth telling too far, my pet. Don't you think, even if it was a lie, that it would be appropriate for you to say 'I love you, Rhett,' even if you didn't mean it? Let me go to the gallows with those sweet words ringing in my ears…."
What was he driving at, she wondered, becoming more confused. He looked so queer, eager, hurt, mocking. He took his hands from her and shoved them deep in his trousers pockets and she saw him ball his fists.
"If it costs me a husband, I'll tell the truth," she thought grimly, her blood up as always when he baited her. "Rhett, it would be a lie, and why should we go through all that foolishness? I'm fond of you, like I said. And maybe I do love you, but I just don't know what love feels like. I thought I loved Ashley, but a lot of good that did for me. It wasn't love. It was just an infatuation. And I do feel something for you that I don't quite have a name for. You know how it is. You told me once that you didn't love me but that we had a lot in common. Both rascals, was the way you—"
"Oh, God!" he whispered rapidly, turning his head away. "To be taken in my own trap!"
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," and he looked at her and laughed, but it was not a pleasant laugh. "Name the moment, my dear," and he laughed again and bent and kissed her hands. She was relieved to see his mood pass and good humor apparently return, so she smiled too.
He played with her hand for a moment and grinned up at her.
"Did you ever in your novel reading come across the old situation of the disinterested wife falling in love with her own husband? Only learning to love him after he's gone and pinning for him after the realization that they were each other's true loves?"
"You know I don't read novels," she said and, trying to equal his jesting mood, went on: "Besides, you once said it was the height of bad form for husbands and wives to love each other."
"I once said too God damn many things," he retorted abruptly and rose to his feet.
"Don't swear." She called after him. He could be so confounding.
"I guess you won't have time to get used to it and learn to swear too, but I wish that things were different. You'd have to get used to all my bad habits. That'd be part of the price of being—being fond of me and getting your pretty paws on my money."
"Well, don't fly off the handle so, because I didn't lie and make you feel conceited. You aren't in love with me, are you? Why should I be in love with you?"
"No, my dear, I'm not in love with you, no more than you are with me, and if I were, you would be the last person I'd ever tell. God help the man who ever really loves you. You'd break his heart, my darling, cruel, destructive little cat who is so careless and confident she doesn't even trouble to sheathe her claws."
"Then why are you bothering trying to save me? If you think I'm so awful and do nothing out of love? If you don't love me, what does it all matter, especially if you're going to be hung tomorrow?"
He jerked her to her feet and kissed her again, but this time his lips were different for he seemed not to care if he hurt her— seemed to want to hurt her, to insult her. "But what if I did love you, what if this was all a ruse, a game to force you into marrying me, and instead of hanging tomorrow, then release me and you'll be stuck with another man you aren't sure that you love for the rest of your life?" His lips slid down to her throat and finally he pressed them against the taffeta over her breast, so hard and so long that his breath burnt to her skin. Her hands struggled up, pushing him away.
"Your heart's going like a rabbit's," he said mockingly. "And they won't allow me a wedding night. So I might as well enjoy kissing you and feeling your body trembling against me. But the way your heart is beating is all too fast for mere fondness I would think, if I were conceited. Smooth your ruffled feathers. You are just putting on these airs.
The look on her face was enough to silence him briefly and gather his wits. And then he knelt before her holding up empty palms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I let myself get so carried away. I have nothing to give you, no ring to briefly band you as mine, but as my widow you'll be able to buy something suitable, soon enough. Imagine once you've found the perfect ring, that I was the one to place it on your finger. I've passed along enough information to Belle to contact my lawyer, and you will be taken care of. I have no other guarantees than that."
"Stop saying they're going to hang you! I'll marry you, but they just can't!" She said in frustration, seeming to move past his previous behavior. Tears were streaming down her face. "Rhett you can't die. Please don't die. Please don't let them beat you." She tugged on his shirt, and he rose up to meet her.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. " We won't talk of it anymore. I shouldn't ruin your wedding day with such talk."
"Our wedding day." Her eyes shimmered with tears, like a cool mossy pond on a spring afternoon, golden sun reflecting off the surface.
"He grinned at her, "then yes, our wedding day", he confirmed. "Let's not ruin our wedding day with such talk." She rose on her tiptoes to meet him as his lips descended to hers, and he kissed her with a gentleness far removed from the desperation of the kisses that they shared at Rough and Ready, No longer kisses meant to hurt or bruised or dominate, they had shifted to kisses that made her hunger and long for more. Kisses that made her feel cherished and cared for. His arms encased her body like iron as they clung together, as the room seemed to spin and fade around them, basking in each other's presence. Even in less than ideal circumstances, there was a magnetic attraction between them, and she had to wonder at what their lives together could be like, if they were allowed.
They broke apart at the sound of the door opening, Scarlett hiding her face in his chest as he tenderly kissed her forehead. He nodded in acknowledgement as the soldier formed them, "Your Justice of the peace is here".
Rhett looked down at Scarlett's flushed face and fever bright eyes, "You're beautiful." He offered softly as she struggled to straighten her dress and smooth out wrinkles, knowing her lips must be swollen from all of the kissing that they had engaged in. If they weren't getting married now, they would still be needing to master for certainly all of the time that they had been closed in the small room was more than enough to compromise her reputation. Then Rhett softly offered her the name of his attorney once again so that she would be able to contact the barrister upon Rhett's death. "I can't risk writing it down that someone would find it."
They were led by the soldier back into the main room where the officiant was standing in front of the fireplace. Officers and soldiers were still milling about the room, but Rhett led Scarlett to the fireplace and nodded at the man. "You've been informed of the situation?" He questioned.
"Yes, I am aware." The officiant assured him.
The man looked to the bright eyed Scarlett, though the question posed was to the both of them "Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to each other in marriage?" Rhett squeezed her hand, but together they both agreed. Scarlett's mind was a complete haze, but she did her best to respond appropriately to him in all of the right places.
"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"
And it seemed that in no time, their vows had been given and Rhett's lips were upon hers again, all too briefly. And then they were pulled apart. The commander was sending her in a carriage with the magistrate and this would be the last time she would see Rhett.
She'd never realized how terrible the thought of being parted from him again would be. She'd never realized that she cared that much for him, and possibly it was only a small feeling greatly magnified by the stress and worry and sickness, but she nearly fainted as she could not contain the pain and sadness. And he swooped back in, as the soldiers didn't even try to hold him back, and took her in his arms as she sobbed. "It will be fine. You will be fine." He promised with a hollowness in his voice. And because he needed her to be angry, not broken, "Cheer up my dear by tomorrow night, you will be a wealthy widow, without the pesky husband to dictate your moves or curtail your spending," he whispered in her ear. And he was rewarded with anger at him sparkling in her eyes. He could see the message in her face, though she composed herself enough not to spit them out at him, "You go to hell, Rhett Butler." for after all, tomorrow Hell would be welcoming him. And he watched as the soldier led her and the justice of the peace out the door, the last brilliant rays of the sunset bathing her silhouette as he bid farewell to her.