Scarlett moaned as she opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. The sun was stealing in under the thick curtains of her hotel suite, illuminating its plush splendour, so removed from the simple furnishings that adorned her room in Aunt Pittypat's. A satisfied smile broke out across her lips as she luxuriated in the feel of the silk sheets wrapped loosely around her body, her ever-practical mind congratulating herself on her sudden rise in fortune.
This time two days ago, as she waited anxiously to undergo her third - and hopefully final - wedding ceremony, Scarlett had been less than confident about her decision to marry Rhett. Of course it had its appeals. He was wealthy beyond compare, more handsome than was entirely decent and - for all his taunting - he understood her in a way that no one else ever had. Yet, despite all this, she still had her reservations. There was just something so unyielding about Rhett as a man, an inner steel that made her fear she would not be able to control him as she once had Charles and Frank.
She had been so uncharacteristically nervous the morning of her wedding that she had screamed at Mammy and Melly as they helped her to get ready, almost reducing her poor sister-in-law to tears when she had pricked Scarlett with a needle while making some last-minute alterations to her dress.
Scarlett's heart had been lodged in her throat by the time the carriage rolled up. She'd heard her new life calling to her, and for a moment she had earnestly considered locking up her bedroom door and refusing to come out until the whole sorry business had been forgotten about.
It was only the thought of Rhett's scorn which had forced her shaky legs to move. Marriage to Rhett may not be perfect, but it was infinitely preferable to having him think her a mealy-mouthed coward who was too afraid to face him.
Scarlett sighed sleepily as she snuggled down further into the cocoon of her warm bed, safe in the knowledge that she had made the right decision. For all his swagger and strength, Rhett had been nothing but gentle towards her in the forty-eight hours since she had become his wife. Scarlett's smile deepened as she recalled the smouldering look he had given her as she recited her vows, his normally unreadable expression softening until she felt that she was finally getting a glimpse of the man that lay behind the mask he wore when dealing with the rest of the world.
He'd appeared so overcome with emotion, and for once so willing to display it, that all of her anxieties had fallen away. For the first time in her life, Scarlett had felt that she could be happy married to a man other than Ashley Wilkes.
Scarlett yawned, making use of every last inch of the sprawling mattress as she stretched. Having spent the previous night in the cramped sleeping car of the train that had brought them from Atlanta to New Orleans, the extra room felt all the more wonderful.
She had never slept aboard a train before and had found the prospect of doing so to be both daunting and exhilarating. On one hand, it pleased Scarlett's vanity to know that, while Rhett may have insisted on a low-key ceremony, he was more than willing to splurge on their honeymoon in order to make her happy - and flaunting her new-found wealth in front of her neighbours made her very happy indeed! However, despite the vindictive pleasure she took in this act, the thought of spending her wedding night alone with Rhett, stranded on a moving train miles from anywhere had filled her with apprehension.
Though she had experienced her fair share of marital relations, none had been what you could call pleasant. Indeed, Scarlett had come to abhor the entire practice, only managing to stomach it by squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to think of other, happier times. Anything to take her away from her immediate surroundings and block out the sight and sound of Charles or Frank above her, sweaty and disgusting, as they used her body for their own gratification.
Even more worrying was the fact that these relations, swift as they were, had been at best uncomfortable and at worst positively painful. Knowing the hurt that such puny men had inflicted on her, Scarlett could not help but fear what Rhett, with his imposing frame and large, muscular body, was capable of.
From the moment she had stepped on the train, she had been numb with fright, barely able to wave her hand in farewell to Melly and Ashley. If Rhett had noticed her discomfort, he had not mentioned it. In fact, she could not recall ever seeing him in such high spirits, as unable to supress a smile as she was to raise one. His black eyes had shone with light as they swept repeatedly across her face, as if he could not quite believe that she was there with him.
If her anxieties had kept her uncharacteristically silent, then Rhett's almost incessant chatter had ensured there weren't any awkward pauses in the conversation. His constant stream of small talk had made time fly by as quickly as the countryside outside their carriage window.
His good mood had continued through supper, as he regaled her with tales of his past escapades in New Orleans and opened bottle after bottle of champagne with which to toast their union. At first, Scarlett had been grateful for his exuberance, drinking the sparkling liquid down as quickly as Rhett could pour it, eager for the alcohol to calm her nerves and dull her overwrought senses.
She had feared that Rhett would make some cutting comment about her drinking habits, but he'd remained silent. Indeed, his smile had only seemed to widen with every glass she consumed. Had she been in her right mind then his countenance would have raised her suspicions, but unfortunately her plan was working a little too well, clouding her senses until she could concentrate on nothing bar the spinning sensation in her head and the decidedly nauseous feeling in her stomach. She'd attempted to conceal her rising discomfort by covering her mouth with her napkin. Taking deep, drawn-out breaths, Scarlett had wondered how best to excuse herself from the table without alerting Rhett's suspicions. Grasping the table in a bid to steady herself, she had lifted her drooping head and willed the contents of her stomach to stay down as she'd opened her mouth to speak.
Before she could utter so much as a syllable, Rhett's deep drawl had cut through the heavy air of the dining cart, 'My pet, as much as I am enjoying the pleasure of your company this fine evening, it has been an eventful day and I believe we would both benefit from an early night.'
As sweet and reassuring as his words had sounded, Scarlett could not help but frown as she focussed her blurry vision on his face. The look of amusement she found there had left her in little doubt that beneath his show of husbandly concern lay an ulterior motive, one which made her feel faint in a way that had nothing to do with the vast amount of champagne she had just consumed.
She had been hoping that he would remain in the dining cart for some time after she made her excuses from the table. His absence would have given her the opportunity to clear her muddled head and prepare herself for the ordeal that was to follow. But it seemed that she was to be denied even this small reprieve. Not knowing how to refuse him, she had nodded her head, her usual fiery nature extinguished by the cold, hard reality of married life.
Mutely, she had risen from the table and followed Rhett out of the dining cart and along the corridor, the rocking of the train making her dizzier than ever. She'd kept her eyes fixed on his back as they made their way towards their room for the night, becoming hypnotised by the shifting of his muscles beneath the fine fabric of his suit like a moth fascinated by the beauty of the very flame which will bring about its destruction.
So caught up in her study was Scarlett, that she had almost crashed into Rhett when he'd stopped outside one of the many doors that lined the corridor. Extracting a key from his pocket, Rhett had moved to insert it in the lock. Scarlett's heart had begun to race inside her chest, suddenly terrified of the reality that awaited her behind the door to their sleeping quarters. Part of her had wanted to curl up into a ball and sob while another had wanted to turn and flee from Rhett, to run away despite the fact that there was nowhere she could go inside a moving train where he would not find her. The more dominant part, however, had wanted to strike out at him, to refuse to submit to his will by instead forcing him to surrender to hers.
As this internal battle had raged inside of her, Rhett's hand stopped midway through inserting the key. He had turned to look at her with an expression both amused and concerned.
'How are you feeling, my dear?' he'd asked, his voice deceptively smooth in a way that suggested he already knew the answer to his question.
Unwilling to show weakness, Scarlett had forced herself to look him in the eye as she replied in as steady a voice as she could muster, 'I'm perfectly well, thank you, Rhett.'
Rhett's lips had quirked upwards before he commented archly, 'Why, I am glad to hear that, Scarlett! Just between you and me, I had heard that some brides can grow a little jittery on their wedding night, but I should have known that you would be made of sterner stuff.'
'Jittery? What in earth is there to be jittery about? This is hardly my first marriage.'
If some of the playful light had fled from Rhett's eyes at her statement, Scarlett had not noticed, being too wrapped up in her own insecurities to take account of his. But even she had not failed to miss the poorly-concealed bitterness in his voice as he'd replied, 'Indeed it is not, my dear. And judging by the vast amount of alcohol you felt it necessary to drink at supper, your previous experiences must have been exceedingly pleasant, I am sure.'
Startled by the anger in his voice and believing it to be aimed at her rather than her former husbands, Scarlett had blushed deeply and felt her own rage rise to meet Rhett's. 'How dare you speak to me like that! If I did drink a little too much champagne at the table it was only because you kept on offering it to me! Clearly you weren't raised to be polite, but I was, and I refuse to lower myself to your standard just because I had the misfortune to marry an uncouth brute of a man!'
'Uncouth? Why, Scarlett, someone has been reading their dictionary lately, haven't they?' he'd sneered nastily.
Incensed, Scarlett had made to retort only to be overcome by a wave of sickness.
On seeing her distress, the malice had drained out of Rhett's face and he'd moved quickly towards her. Unwilling to give into his touch, Scarlett had darted away from his intended embrace, her eyes communicating all of the venom that her words could not.
Rhett had stopped dead, his arms dropping uselessly to his sides. While his jaw had tightened, his face remained carefully void of emotion as he'd chuckled lightly, 'Only you could conduct an argument after consuming two bottles of champagne, my dear! You put on such a good performance that I forgot how unwell you must be feeling. Do you wish to lie down?'
Scarlett had only been able to nod in response, too tired to feel fear as she'd watched Rhett unlock the door. Her breath had caught when she'd taken in their cramped quarters, her face creasing up into a frown as she'd surveyed the narrow single bed and wondered how Rhett intended for the two of them to fit inside it.
All complaints about the room had fled from her mind when she'd heard Rhett clear his throat. Plucking up her courage, Scarlett had raised her head proudly and turned to face him. She was ready, if not wholly willing, to endure what was to come. Only Rhett was not in the room. He had remained outside in the corridor, a secretive smile playing out across his swarthy features as he'd held the room key out towards her.
She'd taken it from his grasp, raising confused emerald eyes to laughing onyx ones as she'd curled her fingers around the cold metal. Her expression had made his grin widen and she found herself growing irritated at his silence, angry at the thought he was teasing her like a cat idly playing with its prey before going in for the kill. She had opened her mouth to demand that he explain his strange behaviour when Rhett had cut her off by closing his fist around her hand and raising it chastely to his smirking lips. Kissing her skin in a way that had always made her shiver, he had held her captive with his gaze before unexpectedly dropping her hand and stepping away.
'Sweet dreams, Mrs. Butler,' he'd drawled, caressing the last two words with his tongue as he'd called her by her new name for the very first time. With that he had walked away, leaving Scarlett alone in the darkness of her room.
Gathering her wits about her, Scarlett had rushed after Rhett, only to collide straight into his back when she'd found him standing outside the very next door along the corridor. Emitting a deep laugh, Rhett had turned to gather her up in his arms, smoothing her tumbled hair as he smiled down at her.
'I had heard a rumour that some women are wont to become more affectionate towards their spouses after marriage, but I scarcely dared believe it. If I had known that a wedding was all it would take to ensure you couldn't bear to go five seconds without seeing me, then I would have endeavoured to place a ring on your finger years ago.'
Still dazed from the alcohol, most of Rhett's words had flown straight over Scarlett's head. 'What are you doing, Rhett? I thought you wanted us to retire to our room?'
Rhett had smirked at her bewilderment, looking as if he would have enjoyed teasing her further if her earnest entreaty hadn't made it impossible for him to continue his game without it becoming cruel. Instead he'd smiled softly and said, 'Indeed I did, my dear, and so we have retired to our rooms, you to yours,' he'd paused to point towards the open door behind them.
'And me to mine,' he'd continued, indicating the closed door in front of him.
Rather than easing her confusion, Rhett's words had only served to deepen it. 'You mean that we're not sle-… we're not staying in the same room?'
'Yes, my dear, that is exactly what I mean. It always amazes me how quickly you decipher my intentions. I doubt there is another married couple in all of the South who are as perfectly in tune with one another as we are.'
Ignoring his mocking words, Scarlett had felt herself grow weak with relief at the assurance they would be sleeping apart that night. Yet, once her initial elation had subsided, her vanity could not help but be wounded at the thought that Rhett did not desire her enough to claim his marital rights immediately.
Her eyes had grown stormy at the perceived slight and she'd wondered how she was ever to keep him from Belle Watling's door if he had already grown disinterested.
'Look here, Rhett...'
She had been silenced by the feel of a warm hand encircling her wrist. Looking up, she'd been met with Rhett's sombre, hopeful expression.
'If you are wondering why I decided on separate sleeping quarters then it is because trains - though the fastest and most practical means of travelling between states - are hardly renowned for their comfort. And while our prolonged separation shall wound me deeply, my dear,' he'd drawled, his mouth turning up into a rakish, predatory grin, 'after waiting such a long time to make you mine, I refuse to do so now under anything less than perfect conditions.'
Blushing at the indecent words, Scarlett had been flattered to learn that, rather than not wanting her, his decision was based on the desire to make the act as comfortable for her as he could.
Touched by his thoughtfulness, Scarlett had found herself matching his smile with a brighter one of her own, enjoying the way his eyes flashed as he took in her unusually tender expression. Awash with relief, she'd leant up on her toes and pressed a spontaneous kiss against his cheek. The corner of her lips had accidentally brushed against his and Scarlett had gasped when Rhett, quick and dangerous as a copperhead, had darted forwards and nipped lightly at her mouth, marking it as his.
'Rhett!' she'd cried, springing back.
Unperturbed, he'd captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled her back to him.
'Scarlett,' he'd whispered hungrily, his mouth almost touching hers, so that her name had ghosted across her lips like a second, sweeter kiss.
Her eyes had fallen shut, her stomach dropping as an unfamiliar yearning flooded through her body, its waves lapping at the shores of unexplored places.
Wishing him a hasty goodnight, she had retreated back to her own room, flushing at the thought that marriage to Rhett might just prove to be fun after all.
Scarlett smirked as she broke free of her memories and sat up in her bed, thinking that fun was exactly what the last thirty-six hours had proven to be. After debarking from the train the following afternoon, they had made their way to their hotel by carriage, Scarlett almost spraining her neck as she'd tried to drink in as much of the bustling city as she could.
Rhett had laughed at her antics, assuring her that New Orleans would still be there tomorrow and she did not need to see all of it in the twenty minutes it would take them to arrive at their lodgings. Too caught up in the glamour of her surroundings, Scarlett had told him to hush up.
She had never been somewhere so alive before, the colour and rhythm of the streets awakening something vital and untapped within her breast. Her appreciation for the city had grown again when they'd pulled up outside their hotel, its beautiful architecture and plush interior making her feel as if she was finally being given the chance to live the privileged life she had always aspired to. The life that she had been raised to live before the war had come along and spoilt everything.
And then there was last night, the night she had been dreading for so long and which had ended up confounding all her expectations.
She had thought it would be painful, but it was not. She had thought he would remain aloof, but he did not. She had thought she would stay silent, but she could not.
He had taken everything she thought she knew about marital relations and proven it false, opening her up to a world that she hadn't known existed, much less experienced for herself. His murmurs and caresses had spoken to something within her that she did not know she possessed, making her want things that she could not name, and do and say things that she did not understand.
It had been too much and not nearly enough at the same time, and it had made her realise just how little she knew of the man she had just married. How little he had let her see until this night.
Thinking of Rhett in this way made Scarlett aware of the empty space that lay across from her on the bed. Leaning back against the headboard, Scarlett scanned the room for Rhett, growing concerned when she realised that it too was empty.
Thinking that he may have wandered into one of the other rooms of their honeymoon suite, Scarlett called out to him only to be met with a resounding silence. Her concern turning swiftly to consternation, she wondered why he'd chosen to abandon her without a word only hours after they'd shared such a wondrous night.
Unless, she thought bitterly, such nights are common practice for him.
She had been a cotton-headed fool to think that just because their union had been a revelation to her, it must also have been one to him. Why, he probably felt pleasure like that every time he visited that ghastly saloon, perhaps more seeing as Belle was bound to know ways of pleasing a man that Scarlett's civilised upbringing had kept her deliberately ignorant of.
Such unpleasant thoughts pricked at Scarlett's jubilant mood. Now she feared that she had revealed too much of herself to Rhett in the heat of the moment. She wished she could go back and relive the previous night, could hide her emotions by biting her tongue and preventing the moans and endearments she had uttered from ever leaving her lips. For she now realised that each indiscretion had given Rhett power over her. By reacting so enthusiastically to his touch, she had shown him that she was not averse to it as a well-brought up woman should be, but rather that there existed something base and wanton inside of her that had made her crave his ministrations.
The sheets seemed all too thin and insipid as Scarlett became painfully aware of her naked state. Unwilling to remain in such a vulnerable position, Scarlett climbed out of bed, stooping to pick up her nightgown from where Rhett had dropped it last night.
Pulling it on, she walked over to the vanity and sat down to brush her hair in preparation for heading out, determined not to let Rhett's absence get in the way of her exploring the city.
As she set to work untangling her knotted curls, she heard a shuffling sound behind her and glanced into the mirror to find Rhett entering the room carrying a large tray.
Her heart gave a thump at the sight of him, unshaven and still dressed in yesterday's crumpled clothes. Heat rose in her cheeks to witness the famously debonair Rhett Butler looking so dishevelled. Maybe last night had affected him deeply after all.
She watched him glance towards the bed, and frown to find it empty. She giggled at the lost look upon his face. Rhett span round to face her, his expression clearing as his eyes fixed on hers through the glass.
'You're up early,' he commented, sulking slightly as he indicated the tray in his hands. 'I was planning on serving you breakfast in bed, but I see that I left it too late. Unless you want to humour me by getting back in?'
'And get crumbs all over the silk sheets?' Scarlett said, wrinkling her nose up in distaste. 'Just set the tray down next to me, Rhett, and I'll eat it when I'm ready.'
Rhett sighed heavily at her words. 'What a romantic suggestion, my dear! You quite put my efforts to shame.'
'Romantic?' Scarlett scoffed. 'Since when do you care about being romantic?'
'Since I married you,' he answered shortly. 'Besides, I hear most women appreciate a little romance on their honeymoons.'
Scarlett huffed in contempt. 'That's because most women are silly little ninnies who have to wait around for their husbands to do nice things for them. If they had enough gumption, they'd learn to do it for themselves.'
Rhett's lips thinned as he struggled to keep his tone light. 'Doubtless you are right, my pet, but seeing as your husband has endeavoured to do a 'nice thing' as you so charmingly put it, perhaps you could humour him just this once.'
Scarlett frowned. The thought of eating in bed reminded her being ill as a child. Ellen and Mammy forcing her to lie in bed for days on end when she'd wanted to be out playing and making mischief with the Tarleton twins. Feeling suffocated by the memory of her enforced confinement, Scarlett's voice was harsher than she intended when she bit back, 'I'm not some child for you to pet and fawn over, Rhett. I'm perfectly capable of eating my own breakfast. I won't have you treating me like a baby!'
'It wasn't my intention to treat you like a child, Scarlett. I'm perfectly aware of how independent you are, indeed I find it to be one of your most admirable qualities,' Rhett said, his voice becoming dangerously smooth. 'I was simply trying to make sure your first morning as a new bride was a happy one. Perhaps I was a little overzealous in my attempt, but you didn't seem to object to such gentle handling last night.'
Scarlett gasped at his scandalous words, her cheeks flaming. What did he mean by referring to their relations in broad daylight? Was he trying to humiliate her? Well, he'd be waiting a long time before he saw her humbled. Tearing her eyes away, she picked up her hairbrush again, determined to ignore him. She startled when she felt his hand come down on her shoulder.
'I'm sorry,' Rhett whispered. Scarlett froze, unable to remember the last time he had apologised. 'I didn't mean to upset you. I wanted today to be every bit as perfect as last night was, perhaps I was trying a little too hard to make that happen.'
Comforted by his words, Scarlett allowed herself to relax into his touch. Closing her eyes, she put down the hairbrush and leant back against Rhett, enjoying the warmth of his body as it seeped through the thin material of her wrapper and melted the stiffness in her spine. Still tired from lack of sleep, Scarlett had almost drifted off when Rhett's hands came up to stroke through her hair.
'Ouch!' she cried, when his fingers snagged in a knot.
Rhett withdrew his hand, his eyes widening comically in the mirror as he took in her bedraggled state. His mouth turned up into a smug grin as he taunted, 'My dear, I don't believe I've ever seen your hair so untidy! I wonder how it came to be this way.'
Blushing once more, Scarlett turned around in her seat, hitting him playfully in the stomach before murmuring, 'You know full well how it got so messy, Rhett. It's all your fault!'
'Indeed it is, my dear,' he said, appearing rather pleased by the idea. 'Why don't you let me make it up to you by feeding you breakfast in bed?'
Scarlett rolled her eyes, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by his stubborn behaviour. Part of her felt certain that some sprite had snuck into their bedroom in the middle of the night and swapped the old cynical Rhett Butler out for this smiling, romantic sap. She had never seen him so unguarded. It was impossible not to let herself get swept along on the tide of his enthusiasm.
Struggling to compose her features, Scarlett employed the negotiating skills that had helped to make her such a formidable business woman. 'I'll eat my own breakfast, Rhett,' she stated, her neutral expression almost cracking when she took in his look of disappointment, 'but if you promise to take me shopping this afternoon, then I will allow you to brush my hair while I eat.'
Rhett's eyes snapped joyfully to see her join in his game. 'And what makes you think I even want to brush your hair, my dear, let alone badly enough to put my hard-earned money at the mercy of your greedy paws?'
Recognising a challenge when she saw one, Scarlett squared her jaw and turned back towards the mirror. 'Fine,' she taunted, 'have it your way.'
Picking up the hairbrush, she raised it to her tangled tresses and began to brush them out. She supressed a smile as she watched Rhett's conflicted expression through the glass, well aware of the internal battle he was fighting. No doubt he was torn between the desire to be close to her and the fear of giving in so easily to her demands. Fluttering her eyelashes prettily, she decided to tip his hand.
Rhett sighed loudly at her coquettish display and turned away. Disappointment gripped Scarlett and she wondered if she should sacrifice her pride and tell him she had only been teasing.
'Rhe-' she began, his name dying on her lips when he picked up the breakfast tray.
Turning back around, Rhett caught sight of her smug smile in the mirror and threatened, 'Not a word, Mrs. Butler. Not one word. And you'll eat every last bite if you know what's good for you.'
Still grinning stupidly, Scarlett could only nod her head as Rhett placed the tray down in front of her and lifted the lid to reveal freshly baked croissants with jam and butter on the side. Handing the brush over to her husband, Scarlett reached out and grabbed one, too impatient to bother with the fillings as she eagerly crammed the warm pastry into her mouth. Laughing lightly at the fine mess she was making, Rhett slid onto the stool behind her. His long legs bracketed her own as he wrapped his arm around her stomach and pulled her back into his chest.
The weight and warmth of his body against her back did disconcerting things to Scarlett's insides, making her feel as if the bottom had fallen out of her belly.
'You can't brush my hair like this, Rhett,' she argued, hoping her voice sounded annoyed rather than breathless. 'We're too close together.'
'You are right,' he sighed, letting her go. 'A pity.'
Shivering at the regret in his tone, Scarlett scrambled forwards in her seat, only regaining her senses when her body was no longer touching his. Keen to distract herself from the desire to fall back against the planes of his chest, Scarlett busied herself with scooping a large dollop of jam onto her knife.
'I thought you didn't like crumbs?' he teased, earning himself a scowl from Scarlett as she took another bite, covering herself with a fresh shower of pastry flakes in the process.
They sat like that for some time, Scarlett devouring her breakfast while Rhett made his way methodically through the haystack that was her hair, brushing it until it fell against her head smoother and shiner than ever. Growing drowsy under the attention, Scarlett couldn't help but lean back against him after she had finished eating, closing her eyes as she felt him put down the brush and wrap her up in his arms.
Lowering his head, Rhett pressed soft kisses into her hair and along the length of her neck, making her skin erupt into gooseflesh despite the sultry heat of the morning. Moving up to her ear, Rhett nuzzled her skin with his nose before parting his lips and sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Scarlett gasped, her thighs clenching, as his tongue toyed with her lobe, sweeping back and forth across the length of it until she was sure she would go mad. Pulling back, he blew cool air over the wet skin before whispering huskily, 'Why don't we go back to bed?'
Her stomach erupting into flames, Scarlett pulled away from Rhett. Terrified by the wave of unfamiliar emotions that threatened to drag her under, Scarlett struggled for an excuse that would allow her to put some much-needed distance between herself and her husband.
Remembering their earlier bargain, she protested, 'But you promised me a day of shopping if I let you brush my hair, or would you have me tell everyone that Rhett Butler isn't a man of his word?'
Tugging her back into his embrace, Rhett slid his palm down the flat of her stomach and murmured, 'My dear, right now I couldn't give a damn what you tell people.'
Fighting against his hold, Scarlett rearranged her face into a pout. 'But you promised me, and I do so want to see New Orleans!'
Rhett relaxed his grip, allowing Scarlett to stand up. 'You're a hard woman, Mrs. Butler,' he grumbled sourly as he watched her walk away.
Regaining her composure now that she was out of the dangerous draw of his arms, Scarlett turned back towards Rhett and smiled, 'Maybe I am, but that's why you married me.'
As she entered the closet and prepared to pick out a dress for the day, Scarlett thought she heard him reply, 'There's only one reason why I married you, my pet, and it certainly isn't that.'
Her curiosity momentarily peaked, Scarlett considered going back into the bedroom and demanding he tell her the real reason. She would have too, if only the memory of him telling her that their marriage was nothing more than a business deal to him hadn't come rushing back, as unwelcome and rancid as the taste of curdled milk. He only wanted her for her body, had only put a ring on her finger in order to get at it.
She wondered why the thought should sting so. Had she not made a similarly cold-blooded deal in order to get her hands on his millions? And to be fair to Rhett, he had made his intentions clear from the start and had never sought to mislead her.
Yet, these first hours of married life had been so utterly different from what she'd been expecting that it was surprisingly difficult to remember that this marriage was a sham, and that they weren't actually in love.
Forcing such unpleasant thoughts from her head, Scarlett concentrated on the task at hand. Rhett's heart might not be hers but his wallet was, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to make the most of it. Rhett had promised her that their marriage would be fun and she intended to hold him to it, even if it wasn't quite the sort of fun that these last two days had made her long for.