This has always been one of my favourite chapters - probably because I'm a sucker for a bit of angst - so I hope you enjoy the extended end scene. Special thanks to everyone who's left a review so far - especially as, being a reader myself, I know they can be a bit of a faff to write - they mean the world to me.
'If you don't stop picking at that dress, my dear, there will be nothing left of it by the time we arrive,' Rhett cautioned, 'and while I for one would enjoy the ensuing spectacle, seeing as I sacrificed half the day to help you find it, I would prefer if people actually got to see the damned thing.'
Scarlett pulled her hands away from her dress without putting up a fight. Rhett had known that something wasn't right with his wife all day, but the fact that she had just turned down a perfectly good opportunity to shout at him meant that something was seriously amiss.
For a man who prided himself on knowing the inner workings of Scarlett O'Hara's head better than anyone - perhaps with the sole exception of Mammy - he disliked not understanding the reason behind her agitation. It had begun with their shopping excursion this morning, never before had he seen her take so long to choose a dress. Normally, he had to forcibly restrain her from buying every outfit that she laid her greedy little eyes upon, fearful that even his considerably large bank balance would not hold out against his new bride's desire to own every piece of clothing in New Orleans.
Though he discouraged her, inwardly, Rhett found great joy in watching Scarlett shop, smiling at the way her eyes grew large and childlike as she took in the riches on display. He relished how excited she got when he purchased something for her, her hands clutching at his arm as she reached up to plant a kiss on his all-too-willing cheek. He knew it was petty, but in such moments the fact that he was considerably wealthier than her two previous husbands combined gave him a feeling of immense satisfaction. Realistically, he knew that he could not buy her love, but with someone as vain and shallow as his beloved bride, he could not help but hope that by giving her more things than Charles and Frank had been able to, he would somehow gain greater possession over Scarlett's heart than either ill-fated gentleman had managed.
Another thing he loved about taking Scarlett shopping was how predicable she was when it came to choosing clothes. After only a week and a half of marriage, Rhett was confident he could walk into any shop in the South and locate the exact dress Scarlett would choose in under a minute. While Rhett would like to say that this newly acquired skill was a direct result of his near-telepathic understanding of his bride, in truth his task was made easier by Scarlett's appallingly cheap taste. No matter how distinguished a shop he took her into, she would unfailingly choose the trashiest dress it had to offer, drawn to gaudy colours and shiny fabrics like a magpie to silver.
While he had tried to improve her style by picking out subtler outfits which better befitted a woman of her beauty and status, after being met with her bull-headed resistance, he had soon abandoned any attempts to educate his wife in the field of haute couture and had instead come to take pleasure in her unique approach to fashion.
Today though, Scarlett had not been interested in such dresses, confusing Rhett by turning her nose up at clothes which she would normally have begged him to buy. Moreover, she had systematically refused every single dress he pointed out, making Rhett question his ability to read her. She had kept on about how this outfit need to be extra special, as if that night's party were some terribly important affair to be attended by kings and queens rather than a ramshackle assortment of his carpetbagger and scallywag friends.
He could not understand why she seemed so fixated on finding the perfect dress, nor why she now kept picking at said dress as they made their way by carriage to the house of Edward Kellerman, an associate from Rhett's days in the Californian gold mines. Curiously, he swept his eyes across Scarlett's face, noting the troubled look in her eyes and her tight, pinched expression. Lowering his gaze, he took in her stiff, awkward posture, annoyed that her dress covered her body so completely that it denied him the opportunity to pick up more clues.
Not only was her dress far more modest than her usual ensembles, but it was also more muted, being made of a dull, almost-brownish red rather than her traditionally bright and glaring choice of colours. He did not know why, but everything about it offended him. Sure, it was elegant and dignified and all that a respectable woman's dress should be, but it seemed an insult to his wife, diminishing her presence and making her almost ordinary.
He found himself missing the very clothes he had previously tried to stop her from wearing, only now appreciating how their bold, brash style reflected Scarlett's personality perfectly, announcing her as a force of nature who would not be tamed by the social conventions that other women conformed to.
Indeed, it was this very distain for the rules that had first attracted his attention. Scarlett's decision to wear a low-cut evening dress to the barbecue at Twelve Oaks had singled her out from the other women present and informed Rhett that he had stumbled across someone who, though similarly high-born, did not belong in such elite and depressingly dull company any more than he did.
He frowned as he realised that, had she worn her current dress to that gathering, he would not have bothered to take notice of her, would have written her off as yet another well-mannered, empty-headed southern lady unworthy of holding his attention beyond the time it would have taken him to note her flawless magnolia skin and unusually engaging emerald eyes.
Had she worn tonight's dress to that picnic, he would never have taken the trouble to track her movements, would not have noticed how she flirted shamelessly with the men around her, drawing them into her carefully-constructed web in the hope of ensnaring her true prize: the esteemed Mr. Wilkes. And, had he not developed such a searing, intense interest in this unknown woman who seemed so achingly familiar, he would never have become embroiled in a row over the South's prospects in the imminent Civil War with a group of silly, misguided young men. Men who were only significant because they desired the very woman he had set his sights on and therefore must be put firmly in their place.
He frowned as he realised that, had he not fought with them, he would not have needed to escape to the peace and quiet of the library, and would have missed overhearing the single most entertaining and fortuitous conversation of his life.
Caught up in unpleasant thoughts, Rhett failed to notice when the carriage stopped outside Kellerman's.
'We're here, Rhett,' Scarlett said, prodding him sharply in the ribs.
Rhett made to climb down only to have Scarlett pull him roughly back into his seat. Confused by her irrational behaviour, it soon became flatteringly clear when he caught sight of the Fairleigh sisters walking past, accompanied by their parents. Breaking out into a smirk, he raised a knowing eyebrow at his wife, relishing the way her cheeks flushed even as she scowled.
Nothing in this world felt sweeter to him than Scarlett O'Hara's jealousy. It was proof, however faint and flimsy, that she at least cared enough to want to keep him out of the clutches of other women. His earlier irritation fading away, Rhett took her hand and pressed it chastely to his lips, rewarding her rare show of feeling by letting his own affection shine through.
Waiting until the sisters had safely entered the building and disappeared from view, Rhett stood up and swung down from the carriage before helping Scarlett to alight. He offered her his arm as they walked up to the house.
Passing through the doorway and climbing the staircase to the large, lavishly decorated reception room, Rhett smiled at the absurdity of the saying that crime does not pay. For while Kellerman was far from an honest man, having joined Rhett in many a dubious scheme over the years, his current fortune implied that he had never been made to suffer for it.
As they were greeted in the doorway by Kellerman and his wife, Rebecca, Rhett took a moment to admire their extravagant attire. Rebecca was wearing so much jewellery that she sparkled brighter than the room's chandeliers.
'Good of you to join us, Butler,' Edward remarked, slapping him heartily on the back. 'My wife was beginning to worry that the guests of honour would be missing from their own party.'
Rebecca hushed him, 'Don't listen to Edward, I knew you'd come. I was just a little worried Mrs. Butler might not be feeling up to it, that's all. Are you all better now, Scarlett?'
Rhett bit back a smirk at the look of confusion that flittered across his wife's face, her forehead creasing in a way that told him she was currently questioning Mrs. Kellerman's sanity.
Deciding to help her out, he leant down and murmured, 'You remember, don't you, my dear? How you were taken ill in church last Sunday?'
The glare that Scarlett shot his way told him that she did indeed recall being forced to feign a coughing fit in order to cover up the giggles brought on by the incredibly rude tale Rhett had whispered to her while the minister droned endlessly on about redemption and sin and a whole host of other sanctimonious drivel.
'Yes, thank you, Rebecca,' she answered in the falsely sweet voice that had always irritated him, concealing as it did her true biting tone. He had never understood why women had to pretend to be simple-minded in order to get on in polite society and had always admired Scarlett's refusal to hide her intelligence. He disliked this sudden change in her behaviour, especially because he could not put his finger on the cause of it. 'I don't know what came over me, there must have been something nearby that didn't agree with me.'
Grinning at her thinly concealed barb, Rhett enjoyed the sensation of sharing a private joke with his bride while their hosts looked on unawares. He wondered idly if they too had moments like this, moments of intimacy in crowded rooms in which they sparked off each other and felt more intensely alive when together than they ever did apart. He supposed they probably did. They were people like himself and Scarlett, brassy and brazen and not afraid to overstep the boundaries of conventional marriage etiquette which decreed that such unions should be built upon respect and duty rather than love and desire.
Yet, he could not help but think that, even if they did enjoy similar interactions, they would never match the heights of his and Scarlett's. They were both such beautiful, confident, intimidating individuals that together they could not help but create something wholly unique. Joking, relaxing, fighting, in love and in hatred, they effortlessly outshone everyone else. There was just something so powerful about their connection, an electricity that hummed louder than anyone else's, a passion that ran deeper than ordinary people's.
It saddened him that Scarlett would not see it that way. He doubted she ever gave their relationship much thought, and yet the fact that the flame between them continued to flicker in spite of her indifference made Rhett wonder just how brightly it would burn when she finally opened up her heart to him.
'Scarlett!' came a shrill cry from across the room, simultaneously pulling Rhett out of his musings and Scarlett away from his side. Making a hasty farewell to the Kellermans', his wife hurried across the room to her giggling gang of cohorts. They were women who had taken to Scarlett from the moment of her arrival in New Orleans and had set her up as a sort of leader for their motley crew. Shrieking and simpering, they made her spin around for them, all rushing to compliment her awful dress and be the one to earn her much sought after smile of condescending thanks.
Rhett chuckled darkly at the display, both happy to see Scarlett reinstated to the position of belle of the ball that he had helped her to lose in Atlanta and cynically amused that she had found her true place, not among the elite crowd favoured by Mr and Mrs. Wilkes, but with the same disreputable rascals that he had always considered to be his friends.
It was one of these morally-dubious, straight-talking men that now signalled to him from a shady corner of the room, breaking away from a group discussion to wave Rhett over.
Taking leave of John and his wife, Rhett approached the cabal slowly, carefully scanning the faces of the men in the group to make sure none held a grudge against him. For though he liked and trusted these people - as much as one could ever trust a scallywag - he was on his honeymoon and did not want to get caught up in any trouble.
Even if part of him itched to take part in another illegal scheme or two, Rhett didn't want what was left of his time in New Orleans to be taken up with plotting when it could be better spent with Scarlett, partaking in illicit activities of an altogether more pleasurable nature.
'Ah, Rhett,' said Matthew Griffin, an old acquaintance of his from the food-speculation game, reaching out to clasp his hand in welcome, 'now here's a man who knows everything that there is to know about lucky escapes! It wasn't too long ago you were facing the old noose yourself, was it, my friend?'
Rhett grinned, enjoying being back amongst men who would not condemn him for his misdeeds as those in Atlanta did, but instead actively looked up to him for them, seeing his spell in prison as a mark of his worth.
'Indeed, it wasn't. Unfortunately, my funds were tied up at the time, otherwise I'd have employed your age-old tactic, Griffin, and bribed every official from here to New York to keep myself from ending up behind bars,' Rhett drawled lazily, earning himself a nervous smile from Matthew and a round of chuckles from the other three men, all of whom he knew from his blockading days and various clandestine trips to Cuba and Nassau.
'So how exactly did you manage to swing it so you didn't end up swinging?' joked one of them, a deceptively slight looking man named Richard who Rhett knew from personal experience could throw a surprisingly powerful punch.
'You know a gentleman never reveals his secrets,' Rhett smirked.
'You'll have no problem in telling us then!' quipped Matthew.
'Not one,' Rhett replied without malice. 'It was mainly down to a winning combination of befriending the guards and having friends in high places who owed me a favour or two. Although spending twenty-three hours a day carving a hole in the floor with a wooden spoon didn't hurt, either.'
'Ha! I bet the prospect of being met on the outside by your vision of a bride helped make the digging easier, hey, Rhett?' Matthew teased.
The men laughed and Rhett joined in, feeling as if he was stepping back into his true skin after years of wearing an ill-fitting costume.
'So as an expert in escaping justice, do you think the rumours about old Bill Quantrill are true?' asked Richard.
'What rumours would they be?' asked Rhett, thinking it more prudent to feign ignorance.
'That he wasn't actually killed in that Union ambush in Kentucky, but managed to escape while heavily wounded.'
'Why don't you ask Robert here,' Rhett said, patting the shoulder of the man to his left who'd be noticeably quiet so far, 'he was far better acquainted with old Bill than the rest of us.'
Swallowing nervously as the rest of the group turned accusing eyes on him, Robert rushed to explain, 'Just from his early days, back when it was petty thieving and cattle rustling he was into. I was never part of his raiding parties, or anything.'
'Don't trouble yourself, Bobby,' Matthew reassured him. 'Even if you had been involved in the raids, I wouldn't get Kellerman to throw you out. Those folks down in Laurence had it coming to them, killing all the gang's women in that slaughter-house of a jail like they did.'
Looking relieved, Robert nodded his head stiffly as the other men rushed to agree with Matthew. Rhett stayed silent, preferring to keep his cards close to his chest.
Seeing the others turn back to him, clearly waiting for his opinion of Quantrill's fate, Rhett said with a quiet authority, 'If he did make it out of there alive, then I doubt we'll be hearing from him anytime soon. If it was me, I'd have taken the first passage out of here. Found myself a nice little place somewhere deep in the South American countryside, somewhere that no one's going to bother coming to look for you, no matter how much they want revenge.'
Nodding sagely, Richard said, 'Yes, he won't be causing the Yankees any trouble from now on, so it'll be up to men like Frank and Jesse James to carry on his legacy.'
Rhett was about to take up this new turn in the conservation when he felt a hand on his back and, turning, came face to face with his wife. One look at her curious expression made Rhett's jaw tighten, leaving him in no doubt that Scarlett had heard more of his conversation than he'd have liked.
'Yes, my dear?' he asked quickly, hoping to distract her while silently cursing the day he'd told her that eavesdroppers often hear highly instructive things.
Sweeping her eyes across each of the men in turn, Rhett smiled as his friends, mistaking Scarlett's curiosity for attraction, all swelled under her scrutiny before deflating when she focussed her attention firmly on Rhett.
'Rebecca wants to start the dancing. Seeing as we're the guests of honour, we need to join in.'
'Of course, my pet,' he replied smoothly, happy to partake in anything that would get her away from men whose violent pasts he would rather her remain ignorant of. Offering her his arm, he led Scarlett out into the open space that had been created in the middle of the room.
As much as he'd enjoyed talking to his old associates and reminiscing about times gone by, Rhett never felt more authentically himself than when Scarlett was by his side. He sometimes marvelled at how the young explorer who had needed no one and nothing to survive had been so easily tamed by a woman who not only didn't love him, but often scarcely seemed to like him.
Yet that was what had happened, one glance across a crowded lawn and his old pursuit of fame and fortune had been abandoned in favour of chasing after something far more valuable: Scarlett O'Hara's heart. For if adventures and law-breaking had made his pulse quicken during his younger days, now it was only his infuriating enchantress of a wife who was capable of eliciting such a response from him.
Standing across from her as the other guests made their way to the floor, he was conscious only of his overwhelming need for her, the ache to touch her, to claim her as his own in front of all these people who thought they knew him and yet never really would. There was only one person he was willing to lay himself completely bare in front of, just one person he wanted to share his past, present and future with, if only she would let him.
As the music started up and Rhett pulled Scarlett flush against his body, he could not help but to reminisce about the first time he had held her in his arms. The differences between then and now were staggering, the intervening years having changed him from a daring, freewheeling blockader into a devoted husband. They'd also transformed Scarlett from a miserable young woman suffocating under the weight of her widow's weeds into a wife who, if not wholly in love with her new husband, was at least fond of his person and more than content with the size of his bank balance. While he may not have yet won her heart, at least he no longer had to pay ridiculous sums of money just to hold her.
Rhett was just beginning to enjoy the dance when Scarlett asked, 'What were you talking about?'
Hoping to stall for time, he replied rather weakly, 'Talking about? I've been perfectly silent these last five minutes.'
Undeterred, she pressed on, 'A moment ago with your friends, just before I came to tell you about the dancing.'
'My dear, those men are hardly my friends! They'd sell me out to the first man who asked if they stood to make a quick buck out of it.'
'One of them mentioned Jesse James.'
'Did they? I must have missed that. I was too busy trying to fend off Matthew's requests for a dance with you later this evening.'
He knew it was shameful to use flattery, and false flattery at that, to throw his much too curious wife off the scent, but one look at her surprised yet pleased smile told him that his underhand tactics had worked their magic once again.
'Which one is Matthew?' Scarlett asked, throwing an assessing glance towards the corner of the room.
'Matthew, my dear, is the one looking utterly dejected because I told him I don't intend for you to leave my arms for a single moment, let alone an entire dance.'
Scarlett rolled her eyes at his remark, yet Rhett noticed that her smile doubled in size. Making the most of her current good mood by pulling her closer, Rhett sighed a silent breath of relief at the fact she seemed to have abandoned her former train of thought.
It was not that he was ashamed of his previous dealings with unscrupulous men. If anything he revelled in them, enjoying the way he could make respectable people blush by simply hinting at his past deeds. Moreover, it was these very misdemeanours that had gained him his current fortune, allowing him to stand on his own two feet and prove his father wrong. They had paid for the clothes on his back, the food on his table and even, he thought with a pang of self-loathing, the woman by his side. Scarlett believed their marriage to be nothing more than a business transaction and, while the thought pained him deeply, he knew he would gladly suffer a great deal more if it meant he got to keep her.
No, he was not ashamed of his past by any means, but that did not mean he wanted Scarlett to know every last sordid detail of it. Why, it was hard enough trying to make his stubborn bride fall in love with him without telling her things about his time with bandits out West that would make any sane person's blood run cold. Not that Scarlett ever did react as she was expected to, but Rhett still couldn't afford to take the chance, not when he stood to lose so much if her reaction didn't go his way.
So, he kept quiet, thankful that his diversionary tactics had managed to hold off her curiosity a little longer. And who knew, perhaps the next time she started asking uncomfortable questions, Scarlett would care enough about him to stay despite the skeletons that littered his past.
As the song ended and a slower waltz began, Rhett rested his chin atop her silken curls and asked quietly, 'Are you enjoying the ball, my dear?'
'Oh, Rhett,' she gushed, 'it's just heavenly! I feel like I'm back where I used to be before the war came along and spoiled everything! None of the balls in Atlanta are half as grand as this one. Your friends are just about the finest people I've ever met!'
Rhett forgot himself for a moment and, throwing back his head, laughed freely at her ignorance. 'Finest people that you've ever met, indeed! My dear, they're all second-raters, black sheep, rascals. They all made their money speculating in food like your loving husband or in shady ways that won't bear investigation.'
'I don't believe it. You're teasing. They're the nicest people…' she argued, a small frown appearing between her brows as her eyes lost some of their joyful light.
'The nicest people in town are starving,' Rhett replied jovially, enjoying Scarlett's error too much to notice her growing distress. 'Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me. You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things.'
'But they are your friends!' she cried, slightly hysterically, blushing deeply as the surrounding couples turned to stare.
'Oh, but I like rascals. Whereas you have no instinct about people, no discrimination between the cheap and the great. Sometimes, I think that the only great ladies you've ever associated with were your mother and Miss Melly and neither seems to have made any impression on you.'
'Melly! Why, she's as plain as an old shoe…'
'Spare me your jealousy,' Rhett snapped, cutting her tirade short. He did not care to have the evening spoilt by her venomous talk, not when he knew exactly where her envy of Melanie stemmed from.
'Beauty doesn't make a lady, nor clothes a great lady,' he said spitefully, casting an openly disparaging eye over the dress which had been offending him all night for a reason that he hadn't been able to put a finger on until now.
He had thought the dress irritated him because it hid Scarlett's body and personality from him, yet now he realised that his dislike of the garment ran far deeper. The dress was a symbol of his wife's continued attempts to deny her true nature and become something she was not. It was evidence of her desire to fit in with genteel society, the same society that had cast Rhett out while proudly harbouring men like Ashley Wilkes.
He had thought that Scarlett's enjoyment this ball hosted by people like himself meant she was finally acknowledging that she belonged in his world rather than Ashley's. But as usual he had been mistaken. She had only accepted this invitation, had only befriended these people, because she thought they were upper-class gentry rather than low-born, badly-bred scallywags.
Caught up in a bitter wave of disappointment, he hardly heard her gasp of hurt as she took in his contemptuous appraisal of her dress. Most of her ensuing declaration that she would prove him wrong by becoming a great lady went entirely over his head.
Rhett hardly had the energy to respond, settling for making a glib, throw-away comment about how he would await her transformation with interest.
He had meant for that to be the end of the discussion, but Scarlett took his words as another insult and ripped herself out of his arms.
'You don't think I can do it, do you?' she accused, her voice rising in time with her temper.
Casting a glance around him, Rhett noticed that practically every guest in the room was looking their way, many of the other couples having stopped dancing to stare at them.
Rhett smirked ruefully. The downside of keeping company with unrespectable people was that they had no manners. If they had been having this disagreement during a ball in Atlanta, the other guests would at least have been well-bred enough to look away while they eavesdropped on his and Scarlett's altercation.
Unfortunately for Rhett, Scarlett took his smirk to mean that he was laughing at her and fled the room, leaving him stranded on the dance floor.
Donning his habitual mask of calm indifference, Rhett smiled apologetically at the crowd, and explained, 'Apologies, but I'm afraid that whatever was upsetting my wife in church on Sunday seems to have returned with a vengeance. If you'll be kind enough to excuse me, I'll be sure to see that she returns safely to our hotel.'
Without further ado, he went after Scarlett, forcing himself to keep his strides leisurely so as not to give the slightest inclination that he was in fact rushing to get to her.
Stepping into the hallway, he glanced around before catching sight of Scarlett near the bottom of the staircase. Grabbing hold of the banister he tore down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as she exited the house through the front door.
Angry at being made to look a fool in front of his friends, Rhett's grip was harsher than he intended when he finally caught up with his wife. Drawing alongside her on the sidewalk, he grabbed her arm and swung her round to face him.
'Let go of me!' she yelped indignantly, but Rhett only held on tighter.
'Believe me, my dear, I'll be glad to let you go soon enough. First, I want to know why you felt it necessary to leave a ball hosted in your honour in such an undignified manner.'
'Huh, undignified!' Scarlett snorted. 'I'd have thought people of their sort would be used to bad manners!'
A muscle in Rhett's jaw twitched. 'You didn't seem to mind their 'sort' until a moment ago, my pet. It's been highly amusing watching you this last week, running around after them like an abandoned puppy desperate for approval.'
Rhett watched with satisfaction as Scarlett flinched under the onslaught of his cruel words, pleased to find that he could hurt her as much as she was capable of hurting him.
Indeed, the knowledge that he had found her weak spot filled him with an intoxicating sense of power, pushing him to go further still. 'It's been quite pathetic, my dear, watching you try so hard to win the friendship of a bunch of good-for-nothing rascals. I very much enjoyed following you around this morning as you tried to find a dress worthy of such esteemed company, and listened to you sweet-talk them into liking you.'
'Stop it,' she appealed softly, but he would not be stopped, not now he was finally getting through to her. Before he had hoped such blunt tactics would not be necessary, that one day she would simply lower her defences and let him in. Yet, despite all his best efforts since their wedding day, it had not happened and he had grown tired of waiting. If she would not willingly allow him inside, he would force his way in and deal with the consequences later.
'Tell me, darling, how does it feel to know you had to make such an effort just to win over a group of reprobates? To know that you'll only ever belong in such base company?'
'Stop it! I will be a great lady, I will!' she cried, tearing her arm free in a surge of strength and fleeing down the street.
At the sight of her running away from him, the anger and hurt that had so consumed Rhett dissipated, leaving behind only a clammy, sick feeling. He had not meant to wound her so deeply. He, more than anyone, knew how desperately she longed to be thought of as a lady, a desire which stemmed from her need to emulate the mother whom she had loved and lost at far too young an age.
It was her main goal in life. A goal which, despite often being side-lined by her near fanatical need for the security that money brought, forever burnt brightly in her heart. It was her dearest and most secret wish, her only real weakness, and he had just used it to tear her apart.
He was a cad. A fact he had always known yet never felt as keenly as he did in that moment. He had wanted to hurt her for hurting him. Such a stupid, childish impulse, and yet it would not be silenced until he succeeded. And succeeded he duly had. But the victory was hollow, bringing forth only a dull sense of foreboding. Rhett feared he had cut a vital cord between them which could not be reattached.
Relinquishing his pride, Rhett took off after Scarlett, grateful that her dress, the cause of so much strife between them, at least made it impossible for her to outrun him. Catching up to her, he grabbed hold of her arm - far more carefully this time - and pulled her to a stop.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw that she was crying. His brave hellcat of a wife was crying and he was the cause. Sickened with himself, he pulled her to him, but she resisted, staring up at him through wet, angry eyes.
'Stay away from me, Rhett,' she sniffled, not seeming to have the energy for her usual fiery outbursts.
'I'm sorry, honey,' he implored, needing her to believe him. That was all that mattered now. He'd open himself up completely, lay all his tenderest parts bare to her claws, if only it would stop her looking at him like that. 'I was angry that you thought my friends beneath you and embarrassed that you left me standing alone on a crowded dance floor, and I said things that I didn't mean. Forgive me. Please, Scarlett, I cannot rest until you do.'
Scarlett's brow puckered, searching for the sarcasm in his words. Ashamed that she trusted him so little, Rhett let go of her arm and reached up to stroke her cheeks, softly wiping away the cold tracks left by her tears.
'Forgive me, my love,' he whispered, resting his forehead against hers so that he could stare directly into her depthless eyes. 'Say you forgive me.'
'You upset me,' she admitted quietly. Her expression was that of a child, shocked to have been shouted at by their favourite parent.
'I know,' he acknowledged, hating that it was true.
'Promise you won't do it again.'
Even though he couldn't trust himself not to break it, Rhett wanted to believe his vow would hold.
'I promise.'
They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other on a deserted, moon-lit street, miles away from home and yet somehow feeling closer to it than they ever had before.
The sound of a carriage passing by broke them apart, and Rhett offered Scarlett his arm.
'Do you want to return to your ball?'
Her nose wrinkled, 'After the way I ran out on them?'
'Ah,' he smiled, 'but that is one of the many benefits of having scallywags for friends. While an Atlanta gathering would be scandalised by our behaviour, here in New Orleans, it's not considered a proper party until someone starts a fight.'
Scarlett laughed, slapping him on the arm. 'Don't tease me, Rhett. I can't go back there now. I couldn't bear it! Oh, I don't know how I'll ever stand to face Rebecca again. She went to ever such a lot of trouble to throw that ball for me, and look how I repaid her!'
Rhett's heart was warmed by the thought Scarlett intended to continue her friendship with Rebecca despite learning of her less than stellar pedigree. Perhaps his wife didn't disprove of his world quite as much as he'd feared.
'I'd invite her and Edward to dine with us at our hotel tomorrow evening, only...' he trailed off, barely able to suppress a grin.
'Only what?'
'Only if you're hoping to regain her good opinion, letting her watch you gnaw your way through the lobster course may not be the wisest of ideas.'
'Why, Rhett Butler!' she cried, torn between offence and amusement. 'Are you angling to sleep outside in the corridor tonight?'
Chuckling, he turned towards her and cupped her chin in his palm, tilting her mouth up to meet his. 'Never, Scarlett,' he murmured earnestly. 'I spent years sleeping in a lonely bed, staring across at the pillow next to mine and wishing your head lay upon it. I don't intend for us to sleep apart again. Do you hear me, honey? Not ever again. Not even for one night. It would drive me quite mad to be parted from you.'
Vanquishing the remaining space between them, he kissed her right there on that midnight street, not caring if the whole of New Orleans came out to watch.
Scarlett shivered when they pulled apart and Rhett fought hard against the desire to lead her into a quiet alley and show her just how fun it could be to consort with rogues. Luckily for the eardrums of the local residents, he knew his new bride would not take kindly to such treatment, and so regretfully he pulled away and resumed their journey back to the hotel.
'Rhett?' Scarlett said a few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence.
'Hmm?'
'I want you to know...I still like your friends.'
'Thank you, my dear. That means a great deal to me.'
'Scarlett?'
'Hmm?'
'I want you to know...I still don't like your dress.'
She laughed. 'Me neither.'