'What about that one?' Rhett asked as they walked down New Orleans' busiest street.

Scarlett glanced at the dresses displayed in the shop window before shaking her head. 'No. I told you, Rhett, it has to be extra special.'

Rhett frowned but held his tongue as they continued along the pavement, an uneasy silence descending. Scarlett knew that even by her own exacting standards she was being unreasonable. This was the tenth shop Rhett had suggested in the last hour only to be rebuked. It wasn't even as if the dresses he pointed out were below par. They, like all the others before them, would have met her needs ordinarily, but today ordinary just wasn't going to cut it.

For Scarlett had achieved sufficient renown in New Orleans to warrant having a party thrown for her, and she was determined to find a dress befitting such an honour. No doubt Rhett thought she was just being vain but, in truth, she wanted to prove herself worthy of the effort her newfound friends had gone to on her behalf. And if she was to do that, then she needed to find a dress that would not only make her stand out from the crowd, but tower above it.

She sighed as she remembered how easy all this had used to be, back before the people of Atlanta had turned against her. In those days, she had been the undisputed belle of every ball she attended rather than the social pariah who was lucky to scrape an invitation to even the most meagre of gatherings. Gatherings she once would have turned her nose up at, but which now she not only attended, but actually felt grateful to be welcomed at. She could not help but despise the few women like Melanie who continued to stand by her when the rest of Atlanta was so quick to turn its back. She hated the idea that that these silly, mousey women felt they needed to protect her - as if Scarlett O'Hara had ever required the help of others to survive.

Why, before the war no party was considered a true success unless she was among its guests. She remembered how the men had all flocked to her side, while the girls - though jealous of her beauty and less open in their admiration - all clambered to find out where she'd had her dress made and how they could best copy her hairstyle.

But, just as they had run to her, now people fought to escape her, their whispers no longer motivated by envy but disdain. Where once Scarlett had stood proudly in the middle of the room, effortlessly commanding everyone's attention, now she was forever condemned to the corners, her former light extinguished by the permanent shadow of her many, irredeemable misdeeds.

But here in New Orleans, hundreds of miles away from home and beyond even the reach of her infamous reputation, Scarlett had been presented with the chance to start afresh, to reclaim her rightful place at the head of the table rather than having to live off its crumbs. It was an opportunity she had never expected to be presented with, and she would be damned if she didn't make the most of it. So while Rhett knew her preferred style perfectly, pointing out dresses which were bold and brash and only just the right side of vulgar, it was precisely because they were to her taste that she was forced to reject them. It was exactly these sorts of dresses that had hastened the demise of her reputation in Atlanta and, if she wanted the residents of New Orleans to think her a great lady, then it was vital she started to dress like one.

Scarlett frowned, remembering the last time she had been this concerned over what dress to wear to a party. That day, there had only been one person she was trying to impress. Her attempts to win Ashely over with her beauty and charm had been a disaster, seeing as he'd not only failed to profess his undying love, but had used the occasion to inform her of his intention to marry Melanie. The day she'd hoped would usher in the beginning of her new life had instead signalled the end of her old, carefree existence. The subsequent war had seen both her reputation and the very South itself reduced to nothing but grey ashes which stood in mockery of their former glory.

'I fear I already know the answer,' Rhett drawled, his deep voice breaking through Scarlett's inner musings, 'but at the risk of incurring your wrath, my dear, I must ask the dreaded question once again.'

Annoyed by her husband's infuriatingly enigmatic words, Scarlett snapped, 'What question, Rhett?'

Rhett sighed theatrically and raised his hand to indicate the window to their left. 'What about that one?'

Scarlett didn't bother to slow her stride as she glanced into the shop he was pointing to. Sure enough, the clothes inside were nothing like the ones she was looking for, their gaudy colours appealing to her heart every bit as much as they contradicted the image of the dignified, ladylike dress she carried in her head.

When she failed to stop, Rhett testily declared, 'My pet, as much as my wallet is rejoicing at your sudden reduction in expenditure, I would like to eat at some point today. If you do not feel up to choosing a dress for yourself, I will happily pick one out for you at the very next store we come across, no matter how ugly or ridiculously overpriced it may be.'

Ignoring his jibe, Scarlett strode on, refusing to be distracted from her mission. In fairness, she was surprised it had taken him this long to lose his temper. She knew that under normal circumstances he would have begun making such threats long ago. Yet, since their earlier dispute at the hotel, Rhett had been unusually gentle with her, biting his tongue at her unreasonable behaviour as if fearful of widening the already gaping chasm between them.

Scarlett's bad mod had begun the moment she'd been torn rudely from her slumber by Rhett snatching the covers from her, destroying her warm cocoon and exposing her body to the chill of the morning air. Cold and annoyed, she had yelled at him to give her back the sheets. Rhett's only response had been to chuckle. Scarlett had been about to reach out and snatch them back when Rhett had startled her by dropping the bedcovers onto the floor and grabbing her bare feet. Scarlett had screamed and tried to yank them from his grasp, but he had held on, smirking devilishly as he'd pinned her legs to the bed with one hand before commencing to tickle her soles with the other. Screeching at the torturous sensation, Scarlett had writhed on the bed, twisting and turning her body in a frantic attempt to escape his hold. Rather than relenting, Rhett had only increased the speed of his actions, causing a peal of helpless giggles to be pulled from Scarlett's throat even as she yelled at him to stop.

Planting his knees down on the mattress, Rhett had relinquished his hold of her feet only to crawl up over her body. Too busy fighting to get her breath back, Scarlett had not noticed his stealthy advance until it was too late. Grinning brightly, Rhett had moved over her until they were chest to chest, his calloused fingertips skating down her bare arms and coming to rest upon her waist.

Scarlett had opened her mouth to yell at him, only for Rhett to drive every coherent thought from her mind when he'd grabbed her round the middle and begun to mercilessly tickle her much-too sensitive sides. Her eyes all but popping out of her head, Scarlett had squealed the place down as she tried to fight him off, slamming her fists up against the immovable wall of his chest.

Laughing unabashedly, Rhett had easily stilled her efforts by dropping down on top of her, pinning her to the bed like a butterfly to a display cabinet. While his eyes had remained joyful, Scarlett had stiffened, her body growing cold. Suddenly the game he was playing no longer seemed so innocent. Becoming all-too aware of her partially clothed state, Scarlett had flushed at the indecency of her attempts to escape his hands which had caused her to wriggle and rub up against his body in a scandalous re-enactment of their night-time pleasures.

While she had been learning to let her guard down, it was only under the comforting cloak of darkness that she felt able to be free with her body. With the morning sun streaming in through their open window, clearly illuminating both the room and their actions, Scarlett had no such means of concealment. Rhett was too close. From her position under him, she had been able to see every emotion that swept across his face. What if he had been able to read her desire just as easily?

Since their wedding her feelings regarding Rhett, once set in stone, had grown increasingly muddled. While at first she had only thought of him as an infuriating skunk who lived to antagonise her, and then, more recently, as a much-needed confidante, now she wasn't entirely sure how she should view him. In the course of the last week, he had managed to escape the confines of the simple boxes she had previously kept him in, extending his place within her life until there was scarcely room for anyone else.

She wasn't altogether sure how she felt about this change in their relationship, but she was certain that the last thing she wanted was for Rhett to discover her increased affection for him. Lord knew he would only hold it over her head like a whip, something to be cracked viciously whenever he felt like being cruel. Panicking, Scarlett had tried to mask her emotions by forcing her eyes to convey nothing but anger as she'd pushed violently against Rhett's chest.

'Get off me!'

He'd laughed, thinking she was still playing. 'Scar-'

'I mean it, Rhett. Get off me, or I'll scream until the whole hotel comes running.'

On seeing her hardened expression, the teasing light had fled Rhett's eyes and a frown had taken their place. The movement of his hands had faltered and Scarlett had used the opportunity to wrench herself out of his grasp, flinging herself off the bed. Running into the closet that housed their clothes, she'd shut the door behind her with a resounding slam.

Safely encased within its four walls, Scarlett had blindly grabbed the first dress that her hands fell upon, not wanting to go another second clad only in her flimsy nightgown. She'd cursed at the realisation she'd have to forgo her corset for now, blanching at the idea of allowing Rhett to fasten it for her. He'd made such a big production of tying it for her every other morning of their honeymoon, downright refusing to allow the maid to do it instead.

She had just begun unbuttoning the dress when a sharp rapping fell upon the closet door.

'Scarlett,' Rhett's cautious voice had reverberated through the wood, 'are you unwell?'

'I'm perfectly fine, Rhett,' she'd replied, her tone a little breathier than she had intended. 'I just remembered that I haven't yet bought a dress for tonight's party. We really must be leaving soon if we are to have enough time to shop before we eat.'

Her words had been met with nothing but silence.

'Rhett?' she'd called out, wondering if he was still there but unwilling to go out and check.

'Very well, my pet,' he'd replied, his voice clipped and deliberately blank, his tone giving away nothing of his thoughts. 'Far be it from me to come between you and your attempts to plunge me into a state of bankruptcy.'

Glad that he'd decided not to pursue the issue any further, Scarlett had tugged the dress on over her head and could have shrieked in frustration when it refused to go over her waist without the help of a corset.

Hearing him move away from the door, Scarlett had called out, 'Rhett?'

'Yes, my dear?'

'Er… do you think you could call a maid to help me dress?' she'd asked, knowing that her words would only serve to sour his mood further.

Sure enough, his voice had grown deceptively silky when he'd replied, 'Of course, I'll see to it that someone is sent up immediately.'

It was exactly this impersonal, guarded tone that he had been using with her all morning and while part of her preferred this withdrawn approach to open hostility, Scarlett could not help but miss the easy companionship that they had built up during the rest of their trip. It almost felt as if they were strangers again, walking side by side like two casual acquaintances rather than husband and wife.

Scarlett's discontentment grew when she turned away from inspecting the passing shops to glance up the street.

This is all I need, she thought irritably as she spotted the Fairleigh sisters walking towards them.

She saw their eyes widen as they recognised Rhett, identical blushes rising on pale cheeks as they quickened their pace. Jerking her head in Rhett's direction, Scarlett scowled as she watched a smug smirk break out across his swarthy features as he too became aware of his approaching admirers.

It was not as if Scarlett had been unaware of Rhett's handsomeness before their honeymoon. Before he had decided to trash his reputation, the women of Atlanta had been equally susceptible to his rakish charm. But while his tanned skin and broad frame had always made her pulse quicken, Scarlett had never really given his looks much thought before their wedding.

Even after they'd exchanged their vows, and such thoughts had gradually begun to creep in, they had never caused her any discomfort. Safe in the knowledge of her own beauty, she was not insecure enough to feel jealous when women turned their heads in the street to stare appreciatively at her husband. Indeed, she revelled in the attention, enjoying the thought that they made a striking couple.

Secretly, she even liked it when other women flirted with him, relishing the way their faces would cloud over with resentment when Rhett politely but firmly refused their none-too subtle offers. At such moments, he would tighten his arm around Scarlett's waist, or plant a kiss amongst her curls, some small gesture to make it clear he was spoken for. It stoked her pride to see such women thoroughly rebuffed, for she revelled in the fact that Rhett could have anyone he wanted, and yet had chosen her.

She would always make sure to respond to his possessive actions with ones of her own, placing a hand on his chest or resting her forehead against his cheek, gestures inspired less by a genuine surge of feeling for her husband and more by the wish to forcibly mark him as her own. She would always glance over to her competitors as she did so, warmed by their envious glares as she touched Rhett in ways they could only dream of. Smirking back at them, she would then lead Rhett away, her step surer and more confident than ever.

But with women like the Farleigh sisters no such victories were possible. For they did not view Scarlett as competition, indeed they hardly seemed to notice her at all. Their attentions towards Rhett were not motivated by an attempt to steal him away, but rather by the simple fact that they found him attractive. Time and again, they would rush to his side eager for any and every ounce of attention he was willing to bestow, like a pair of over-enthusiastic puppies desperately craving the notice of their owner.

Such actions irritated Scarlett beyond belief. She despised the way they would gaze up at Rhett with eyes as wide as saucers. Hated that he would indulge their childish infatuations by adopting his most charming persona, complimenting them shamelessly as if they were the two most attractive women in all the world rather than two plain sisters with a silly crush.

Sure enough, Rhett dramatically swept his Panama hat off his head as they approached, sinking into an exaggerated bow as they came to stand before him.

'Why, Louisa and Annabelle, how fortunate we are to happen upon the two finest young ladies in all of New Orleans.'

Scarlett rolled her eyes as the sisters flushed and simpered at his greeting, biting down sharply on her tongue to stop herself from making a cruel barb at their expense.

'Mr. Butler, you know that's not true,' Annabelle, who at nineteen was the older and braver of the two, replied.

'And you know that I've asked you to call me Rhett. Mr. Butler makes me feel like an old man,' Rhett teased. 'Now to what do we owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?'

'Well Mr…' Annabelle began, hastily checking herself when Rhett raised an admonishing eyebrow. 'Rhett, Louisa needs a new shawl for tonight's ball, so we thought we'd come into town to purchase one.'

'Ah,' said Rhett, adopting a faux concerned look, 'I'm afraid you will be unsuccessful in your endeavour.'

'Why's that?'

'I have already been forced to walk past every single shop in New Orleans this morning, and have yet to see one article of clothing worthy of yourselves.'

As the sisters dissolved into a fit of nervous, but ecstatic, giggles, Scarlett threw Rhett an angry glare only to feel her temper rise when she saw that he was too busy grinning at his admirers to notice her.

Unused to being ignored by him and finding that she did not care for the experience, Scarlett decided to take matters into her own hands. Moving closer to Rhett, she linked her arm through his and, smiling condescendingly at the girls in front of her, said with poorly concealed spite, 'As much as I'd love to stand here and talk all day, my husband and I need to be getting on. If you don't mind, we'll say goodbye and see you at the ball this evening.'

Tugging firmly at Rhett's arm, she hardly allowed him time to make his farewells before dragging him down the street.

'My pet, if you wished to be alone with me then you need only have asked. There was no need to be so rude about it,' Rhett chastised, his words quite ruined by the satisfied smirk emblazoned across his face.

'Hmph!' Scarlett snorted, too annoyed to notice that Rhett had abandoned his earlier icy demeanour. 'I couldn't care less about being alone with you, Rhett. I just couldn't stand to be around them a moment longer.'

'Louisa and Annabelle?' he asked innocently. 'Why, they are two of the sweetest women in New Orleans, and this city is famous for the hospitability of its ladies.'

'I'm sure you know a damn sight too much about its ladies' hospitality, Rhett Butler!' she seethed, hating to be reminded of her husband's womanising ways. 'But if your idea of sweet is being a simple-minded fool, then perhaps you should have married one of them instead!'

Rhett laughed loudly and pulled on her arm so that she swung round to face him. 'Is that a note of jealously I detect, Mrs. Butler? Now that I think about it, perhaps the reason you've been unable to find a dress this morning is because you've been too distracted by my enticing presence to concentrate on shopping.'

For the second time that morning Scarlett found herself face to face with her husband, fearful that her tumult of emotions were close to being exposed. Feeling her earlier panic bubble back up in her throat, Scarlett's thoughts once again turned to escape.

Scoffing derisively, she pulled away from him and blindly ran into the closest doorway, declaring as she went, 'Hardly, Rhett, in fact I've found the perfect shop.'

Once inside, Scarlett glanced around and felt her heart sink. This shop did not possess a single item that held any interest for her. It didn't even hold any dresses. Rather than running into a clothes shop as she'd assumed, Scarlett's panic had instead caused her to flee into a book shop.

Wondering if she could return outside before Rhett noticed her mistake, Scarlett turned around only to be confronted by her husband's mocking laughter.

'Why, Scarlett, I do believe I've underestimated you! Here I was thinking my new bride is as shallow as she is beautiful, when in fact I've been married to a secret bibliophile all along. Tell me, my dear, which author is your favourite? Do you favour novels or poetry? Dickens or Scott?'

Furious at herself for allowing him to gain the upper-hand, Scarlett took a deep breath, steeling herself against his jeering.

His eyes were alight with mischief when she stared up at him, no doubt revelling in her discomfort. Not trusting herself to speak, Scarlett could only scowl. A scowl which deepened when he took advantage of her silence to continue his teasing.

'Personally, I prefer Scott. There's only so many descriptions of slums and workhouses that one can take before it all gets a little tedious, but of course I am only an amateur in this field and would be honoured to hear the opinion of a true literary connoisseur such as yourself.'

Not having the slightest clue what Rhett was blathering on about, but unwilling to admit defeat, Scarlett searched for the largest and most impressive book she could find, declaring haughtily, 'I don't have time to discuss such unimportant matters with you, Rhett. I only came in here because I haven't yet bought a gift for Ashley and Melanie and you know how much they love reading.'

Walking over to the shelf that held the enormous book she had selected, Scarlett failed to see how the laughter drained from Rhett's face at the mention of Ashley's name.

'Indeed I do, my dear. They possess all the marks of good-breeding and a cultured mind that you so pointedly lack.'

Reaching the volume, Scarlett did not even have time to lift the cover before Rhett was beside her, his breath heavy and heated upon her ear. 'Although I am surprised to learn you care enough about finding them a suitable gift to interrupt your previously urgent need to buy a dress, but then that's you all over, isn't it, my pet? Always thinking of others rather than yourself. How fortunate I am to have found a wife who spends her own honeymoon thinking of those she left behind at home.'

Surprised by the unconcealed malice of his words, Scarlett felt her own hackles raise. 'I don't know what's the matter with you, Rhett Butler! Melanie has always stuck up for you, and now you're acting like I'm committing some awful crime by wanting to buy her a present.'

Rhett's eyes narrowed as he sneered, 'If it was really Melanie you were so eager to buy this for, I wouldn't have a problem, my pet.'

Scarlett was about to ask him what on earth he was trying to get at when the proprietor, no doubt having overheard their squabble and keen to prevent a fight from breaking out in his shop, hurried over.

'Is there anything that I can help you with, Madam?' he asked, smiling cautiously at Scarlett while his watery blue eyes silently begged her not to make a scene.

Embarrassed that others had noticed their disagreement, Scarlett flushed and nodded her head. 'Yes, I'm interested in buying this for a friend,' she explained, indicating the momentous tome that lay on the shelf in front of her.

'Ah, the complete works of Shakespeare,' the shop keeper exclaimed, his eyes brightening with appreciation as he took in her choice. 'A fine purchase, if I do say so myself. You have exquisite taste.'

Swelling up at his compliment, Scarlett could not help but glance back at Rhett, lifting her eyebrows triumphantly as if to say that she was a literary connoisseur after all - whatever that may be.

Rhett's eyes flashed at her expression, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips before he spoilt the mood by commenting, 'Indeed it is, although it's no surprise that you should feel an affiliation with this particular work, my dear. I've always thought that your resemblance to Lady Macbeth is exceedingly striking.'

While the name itself meant nothing to Scarlett, the shocked gasp of the shop keeper left her in no doubt that Rhett meant the comparison to be offensive. Bristling with indignation that he would so openly insult her in front of a complete stranger, Scarlett ground down on her teeth as she walked over to the counter to pay for the book. The shop keeper grunted as he lifted the volume from its resting place, carrying it awkwardly in his arms before dropping it heavily onto the counter.

Once Rhett had handed over the required payment, Scarlett waited for him to pick it up only to watch him turn away empty-handed.

'Rhett, I think you've forgotten something,' she called after him, enjoying having gotten the better of her husband for once.

Instead of shamefacedly returning to collect the book, Rhett merely swivelled his head round to grin sardonically at her, 'Why, Scarlett, it was your idea to get this gift for your dear, dear friends the Wilkes'. Far be it from me to take it from you.'

Scarlett watched as Rhett calmly exited the store, leaving her stranded in the middle of the floor. After seeing the shop keeper struggle to carry the book from the shelf to the counter, she wasn't confident that she'd even be able to pick the thing up without dropping it and breaking every bone in her foot, but she knew that conceding defeat and following Rhett onto the street without her purchase would hurt her pride even more.

Squaring her shoulders, Scarlett ignored the sympathetic look the shop keeper was throwing her way as she bent and hoisted the expensively bound volume into her arms. Biting back a curse as the weight of it threatened to topple her over, she bit down hard on her bottom lip and slowly made her way out of the store. Her back was already aching by the time she emerged out into the open air and she feared she was waddling worse than Mammy. She scowled as she took in the sight of Rhett leaning back against the brickwork, casually smoking a cigar as if he didn't have a care in the world.

'You took your time,' he commented lightly, a rakish grin breaking out across his dark features.

Scarlett was seriously considering throwing the book at his head when, as if he sensed her violent intentions, Rhett sprang away from the wall and marched down the street.

'You'd better get a move on, Scarlett,' he called back over his shoulder. 'Or we won't have time to eat.'

Glowering at Rhett's retreating form and wishing with every ounce of her heart that looks really could kill, Scarlett made to follow him, her arms and back protesting with every small, unsteady step.

Concentrating on trying not to drop Ashley and Melanie's stupid present, Scarlett didn't notice when Rhett stopped three shops down from the book store and was only prevented from stumbling headlong into him when he held out an arm to restrain her. Snapping her head up in surprise, Scarlett's frown deepened when she saw him smiling down at her.

'Do you mind, Rhett,' she groused. 'It's hard enough carrying this damned thing without you standing in my way.'

'Apologies, my dear,' he drawled, 'I only stopped because I thought you might be ready for food, but if you want to continue walking then, by all means, be my guest.'

Turning her head, Scarlett saw that they were standing outside a rather charming-looking café. The sight of the cakes in the window was enough to have her empty stomach rumbling loud enough for passers-by to hear.

Scarlett's upper body screamed at her to accept Rhett's invitation. She knew that he was trying in his own, perverse way to make things up to her. They hadn't planned on eating until after she had bought her dress and, if he'd wanted to, he could easily have engineered it so that she'd have to lug the book up and down the streets of New Orleans until either her back or her pride gave out. Instead, here he was extending her a sweet-tasting peace offering. She opened her mouth to accept when a sly thought entered her head and presented her with an opportunity for revenge.

Tilting her head as if she was considering his offer, Scarlett waited a moment or two before reluctantly nodding. 'I suppose we could eat now if that's what you want, Rhett,' she said quietly.

Rhett smiled indulgently at her display of contrition, as if she was a favourite child he could not help but spoil. Scarlett had to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing at how easily he'd fallen into her trap.

Taking a small step towards the entrance of the café, she feigned a grimace as she put her left foot down.

'Are you alright?' Rhett asked, his hand wrapping around her upper arm.

'I'm fine,' she hissed, 'I've just got a stone in my shoe. It's been bothering me ever since we left the bookshop.'

Rhett had the good grace to look guilty. 'You should have told me.'

'I would have, but you were walking so fast and I couldn't keep up, not carrying this thing. I had no choice but to let it stab into me,' Scarlett said, hoping she wasn't laying it on too thick.

While Rhett had accused her of being a terrible actress many times in the past, guilt seemed to prevent him from seeing through her performance on this occasion.

'I'm sorry, honey,' he murmured, looking thoroughly abashed, 'Give me the book and you can take it out.'

'It's fine, Rhett. I'll get it once we sit down. It's been tearing into my foot for a while now, a little longer won't make much difference.'

'Nonsense, if it's hurting you, you shouldn't walk on it,' Rhett replied. 'Hand me the book and take it out.'

Heaving the put-upon sigh of martyrs everywhere, Scarlett allowed him to take the book from her, rubbing her arms and cricking her neck in relief once the offending weight had been lifted. Keeping up the pretence, she bent to the ground and made a big performance of removing the imaginary stone from her shoe, careful to keep her face hidden from Rhett in case she smiled and ruined her game.

'Oh!'

'What's wrong?'

'It's nothing, there's just more blood than I was expecting.'

'My dear, I didn't realise. Let me see,' he said, starting to bend down.

Scarlett stuffed her foot back into her shoe before he could uncover her lie. 'I'll see to it after we've eaten. Do you think we could have something sugary, Rhett? Only I'm feeling a trifle light-headed.'

'Of course,' he rushed to agree, his eyes wide with regret. 'I'm sorry, honey. I had no idea you were suffering so.'

Composing her features, Scarlett stood back up and waved away his concern. 'It doesn't matter.'

'It does,' he insisted stubbornly. 'I hate to see you hurting. I want you to feel nothing but pleasure on this honeymoon.'

Disconcerted by the genuine distress in his voice, Scarlett worried that she'd taken her joke too far. Then she remembered the shopkeeper's face when Rhett had walked out on her and decided to double down.

'It's out now. You can pass it back,' she said, holding her hands out for the book.

'I think I can manage it from here to the table, Scarlett.'

Fighting to keep her face straight, she replied airily, 'If you insist.'

Scarlett watched as he began to walk towards the café, enjoying the slight awkwardness of his usually sleek gait now that he was laden down.

She waited until he was almost on the threshold before calling out, 'Oh, Rhett, wait one moment. The dress in the next window is just perfect! Can we look at it?'

Without waiting for an answer she took off, practically skipping down the street towards a shop with a window display so ghastly that even Melanie - who had absolutely no sense of style - would turn up her nose at it. Moments later she heard Rhett's noticeably heavier footsteps approaching and fought back a giggle as she took in his appalled expression.

Glancing at her in concern, he said, 'Scarlett, I fear that the blood loss has made you delirious. That is not an acceptable gown to wear in a dark room, let alone to a ball. I've scarcely seen anything more vile in my life, and that's coming from a man who's fought in a war, spent time in jail and had the misfortunate to witness you drooling all over his pillow.'

Pretending to be hurt by his remark, Scarlett replied meekly, 'Oh, I guess if you really don't like it, I won't buy it.'

'Scar…' he began somewhat apologetically.

'No, it's fine, Rhett. We'll just have to keep looking. I hear there's a great little shop three blocks over that has the very best dresses in all of New Orleans.'

'Whatever you want,' he replied, eager to atone for his perceived insult. 'After we've eaten we can head straight there.'

'You know, Rhett,' Scarlett said, a devious smile breaking out across her face and turning her eyes a dark, dazzling emerald. 'Lady Macbeth's not feeling so hungry anymore.'

Rhett stared at her in confusion before his eyes flashed and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, 'Why, you conniving little…'

'Ah ah, no time to talk now, Rhett. We need to get there before all the best dresses have gone,' Scarlett smirked, taunting him further by walking backwards down the street as Rhett tried and failed to catch up, his progress severely hampered by the load he was carrying.

'You wait, my pet, you just wait,' he threatened menacingly, but Scarlett wasn't fooled, the dancing light in his eyes assuring her that he was nothing but amused by her antics.

Scarlett only laughed and stuck out her tongue before spinning back round the right way and continuing on down the street, grinning from ear to ear.

She was glad that the tension that had existed between them for most of the morning had lifted, and wondered if her feelings towards Rhett, so confused up until now, weren't becoming a little clearer.