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Some more notes from the New Orleans.
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I own nothing in regard to GWTW.
Chapter 26.
Sunlight streamed through the gap between the cream velvet drapes, sliding down the beige walls, with their gold Damask pattern.
The rays timidly illuminated the furnishings in the honeymoon suite of a hotel in New Orleans. Fine furniture, light-coloured carpets and gold-framed mirrors. A luxurious but not gaudy room.
A single ray slid across the bed and shone on the swarthy face of a man who slept with a peaceful expression. He stirred a little in his sleep, then yawned quietly and opened his sleepy eyes, looking around as if he hadn't immediately realized where and who he was with.
Rhett looked around, then his eyes recognized the face of a clock standing on a white dresser in the distance. He was a little surprised, but when he saw her beside him, still dozing, he only hugged her tighter around the waist, listening to her quiet breathing.
They woke up late by both Rhett's and Scarlett's standards, around nine in the morning. Waking up a little earlier, he thought back to last night, their first night, and hid a smile in her hair...
After all that they fell asleep around midnight, he gently wrapped his arms around her waist, it was important to feel her close to him, but for some reason that night he had his dream about her again, his old fantasy where he gently caressed her shoulders and neck. The dream was interrupted and he woke up extremely aroused, as he had been before.
But, she was there.
At first he didn't remember where was the dream and where was reality. Still sleepy, he began to gently caress the curves of her figure, her breast, but she, sleeping with her back to him, only pressed closer and sighed softly in her sleep. This only spurred him on, and he kissed and caressed her softly and tenderly until she finally woke up and they fell back into a whirlwind of pleasure, falling asleep only at dawn.
Rhett stroked her hair and gently ran through it, waiting for her to wake up.
Scarlett woke up, and without opening her eyes, she remembered where she was and, more importantly, who she was with. Memories of last night flashed through her mind in vivid images.
Everything that had happened between her and Rhett didn't even remotely remind her of those first emotions with Charles.
No, with Rhett it had been tender at first, then passionate. He had given her sensations that she could hardly remember in the light of day, without blushing. It felt good and, for the first time, she didn't wonder if he felt good. She felt that he was. His reactions to her timid caresses, the way he called her name huskily and tenderly, the way he held her against him-all of it screamed his love louder than words could ever say.
And now, feeling him playing with her hair, stroking it gently, she smiled without opening her eyes.
"Good morning," she heard his quiet voice. A voice that was so gentle, but at the same time so passionate in the hot darkness.
Scarlett blushed, remembering again everything that had happened during the night and at dawn, and she whispered without opening her eyes, "Good morning, Rhett," and then also asked without seeing him, "how did you know I was already awake?"
He chuckled, reached for her lips, kissed her affectionately, and then continued, "Well, Dear, Mrs Butler, first you smiled and it was clearly not in a dream, I daresay you remembered something nice... And then, you blushed, and I can safely say that you remembered..." He chuckled again, seeing her blush again, and whispered in her ear, "I'm right, Scarlett, aren't I?" She only nodded her head, squeezing her eyes shut. But that wasn't enough for Rhett and he asked with interest and even a little concern, in a low whisper, "Did you have a good time last night, love?"
Scarlett opened her eyes and exclaimed with quiet indignation, "Rhett, that's not proper to discuss."
He laughed and hugged her affectionately, then spoke more seriously, "Scarlett, Honey, we're married and anything that happens between us in our bedroom is between us and we can discuss it as much as we want. Okay, honey?"
She looked into his eyes, nodded, but suddenly said seriously, "Rhett, I can't talk about this right away, it would be embarrassing..."
He drew her affectionately to him, hugged her, and only said, "I know, Love, I know... Sometimes I forget that you are so young, almost a child..."
At the word "child" she puffed up and prepared to say a whole speech, but he only laughed, kissed her and said, "You even get angry, like a child..."
They lay together for about half an hour, Scarlett was about to go and get cleaned up, but Rhett wouldn't let her go, kissing and tickling her. When suddenly his kisses went from gentle to hot and more demanding, Scarlett sighed and whispered, "Rhett, it's morning..."
"And ...?" he spoke, never breaking away from kissing her shoulder, pulling her nightgown lower and lower.
"Rhett, it's indecent..." said Scarlett again, realizing that her breathing was already hitching and fast.
"Sweetheart," he whispered, ignoring her last words and was about to pull the nightgown off her breast.
Scarlett realized that they were in danger of spending the whole day in bed, so she resorted to stealth, knowing that Rhett was serious about this question for now.
"Rhett," she said, running her hand through his hair, "I'm hungry, breakfast time is long gone and..."
He did stop, glancing at her with a misty look and reaching for her lips only whispered, "Okay, Honey, let's go to breakfast." The question of meal was indeed a very acute one for him. Scarlett supposed that he had been impressed by her fainting in jail; he was not accustomed to seeing her weak.
Time in New Orleans flew by unnoticed. The newlyweds went out a lot, had fun, danced at parties, shopped, bought presents. Every time Rhett told surprised Scarlett, "I want to spoil you, Darling. You've been through a lot, let me give you fun and carefree."
And Scarlett accepted this attitude, not so much the gifts as the opportunity not to worry about money, about paying taxes, about what everyone would eat in a week or a month. She was having fun, but something was still wrong. The war had left too big a mark on her soul, and one day at the sight of Yankee soldiers in blue uniforms, she clung so tightly to Rhett's arm that he looked at her anxiously.
"Are you all right?" he asked her quietly that night as she sat brooding by the mirror, in her dressing gown. She wanted to let her hair down already, but her hands froze and it was like she wasn't here.
"Honey," Rhett called to her softly, sitting in a chair by the fireplace. It was rainy outside and they had decided to spend the evening in the room, lighting the fireplace and just talking. Scarlett loved such evenings, or even nights, when they could talk about everything by the fireplace or in bed, after passionate lovemaking, when their hunger for each other had been quenched. Rhett liked to light a cigar, to sit at the headboard and tell her stories of himself, of his childhood, of his father, of his youth, and she rested her head on his shoulder and loved to listen to him.
It was better than presents and parties. It was real. He was letting her into his heart and into his life for real. Sometimes she would tell him stories. About her childhood, her youth on the plantation, her friends and beaux. Once, when Rhett was brave enough, he asked her about Ashley. She told him about their walks, his stories about "boring books" (Rhett chuckled), but when she shared a memory of twisting her ankle on a walk and Ashley carrying her home in his arms, the story was interrupted and Rhett pulled her to him, kissed her passionately, and then she couldn't remember where her body began and his. Rhett was still jealous, though he knew it was stupid and illogical, but it was a habit, an old belief.
But that evening, after the meeting with the soldiers, Scarlett was extremely quiet, and when he called her to sit on his lap by the fireplace, she came over with a comb in her hands.
Rhett sat her down in front of him on the soft rug and carefully began to remove the pins from her hair so he could brush it out later. His interest and the loving way he brushed her hair surprised Scarlett, but she enjoyed his touch.
But tonight Rhett was looking at her with concern, and she wasn't herself. Something was troubling her, but she remained silent. Rhett decided to wait.
She sat before him, he brushed her hair affectionately, strand by strand, and they had a quiet conversation. Somehow they began to talk about Melanie and Scarlett said with a faint smile that she was glad to have her as a sister and as a friend.
"I've always had few girlfriends, they were all jealous of me. I was more into being friends with boys," she explained to Rhett.
He smiled and as he continued to brush her hair, he said, "Miss Melly is very fond of you. I remember just before we went to Tara back then, in May, she reprimanded me personally and told me that if I hurt you, I would have to deal with her," he finished with a smile and joked in a minute, "She'd probably support anything you did, Scarlett. Unless it's murder," he finished with a kind chuckle.
He didn't immediately realize something was wrong as he continued to brush her soft curls, listening to the crackling of the logs in the fireplace and was quietly happy. Putting the brush aside, he pulled her hair to one side and reached up to kiss her cheek. But, feeling the salty taste on his lips, he anxiously stood up and moved quickly to the rug in front of her. Scarlett stared at the fire and wept quietly.
He looked at her questioningly, gently stroked her wet cheek, took her hands in his, remembered how quiet she had been all afternoon and evening and only said seriously, "Tell me, Scarlett."
And she did. Her biggest and most terrible secret, which they shared in threes with Mammy and Melly.
As she told him about that November day at Tara and the Yankee deserter, he squeezed her hands, and his expression changed from anxious, then to furious, and then he hugged her gustily and began to whisper, soothingly, "Hush, Scarlett, hush. My brave girl. I'm proud of you! You didn't kill, you defended yourself! Defended yourself, your family, your son and your home. Scarlett, I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if you hadn't had a gun or if something had stopped you from shooting. Scarlett, it's not your fault! God, I love you so much," he repeated in a whisper, kissing her face, "if anything had happened to you...My darling..."
That night he spent a long time soothing her, then he carried her to the bed, laid her down and held her tightly. He stroked her hair and soon she was asleep, and Rhett lay awake for a long time, silently thanking heaven, Charles Hamilton, who had the gun, and Melanie, who had insisted on taking it when they left for Tara.
The honeymoon was coming to the end, and Rhett was quietly pleased and amazed that he and Scarlett, with their stubbornness and temperaments, had hardly fighted during those two weeks. He didn't mind teasing her sometimes, seeing how bright green her eyes lit up, how red her cheeks turned, how belligerent she looked at him and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to plop her on the bed and calm her down in his own way. It usually helped avoid major fights.
That afternoon they returned from the tailor's to pick up Scarlett's dresses. She didn't want to order many, for she was very thin, but she wanted to choose them herself and she said, "Rhett Butler, I'm not a doll for you to dress me the way you want me to be dressed! I have my own opinion!"
Rhett had seen Scarlett in black for so long that at first, when she chose beautiful fabrics, he only smiled, but then, looking at the styles of a couple of dresses, it seemed to him that he had seen something like this somewhere before.
On reflection, Rhett understood and decided to talk to Scarlett to help her with her choice and leave either the colour or the style to make the dresses look worthy of her. But he ran into a wall of incomprehension. They were both tense at the tailor's, hardly spoke on the way to the hotel and, on entering the room, they both broke down.
"Scarlett," he began in an annoyed voice, "why do you always have to be so stubborn!? I only want to help you, you always said I was good at fashion. Remember when I was in the blockade, you were one of the people who listened to my stories from Paris," he finished with a chuckle.
"Rhett, I don't want you to decide for me what I should wear!" she replied, raising her voice.
"But, I want to see you beautiful!" he replied.
"Why, can't I do it without you, Rhett?" she replied caustically.
"You're acting like a child who hasn't been spoilt enough, Scarlett! You're being silly! You want to look like a lady, and in fact some of those dresses, Honey," he said in a sarcastic tone, "are quite appropriate in my friend's saloon!" Rhett stopped talking and realized that he had overdone it.
Scarlett turned pale and stared at him, almost crying, and he wanted to go over to her, hug her and apologize for those stupid words, but he saw the steely gleam in her eyes and stopped halfway.
"So, Rhett, is that what you think of me? That I look like a girl from Miss Watling's saloon? And why did you marry me in the first place?" she went on wryly, clasping her hands in front of her.
He, too, stood pale, clenching his hands into fists, painfully offended by her words about him and their marriage.
"I'm sorry, Rhett, I'm not up to these girls, I'm not experienced enough..." she finished her speech and looked at him angrily.
He stepped towards her, glaring menacingly at her, but she stood still.
Rhett, said with quiet fury, "If you were a man, I'd wring your neck for saying that!"
Then, without another word, he grabbed his jacket and quickly left the room, slamming the door. As he descended the stairs, he heard the sound of glass developing against the front door.
That was how they had a serious fight for the first time.
Scarlett sat in her room, staring sadly out the window. Rhett had been gone all day, since lunch, and it was getting close to dinner time. She was angry at him for saying those words when he'd reminded her once again of his connection to that place and that woman.
Ever since they'd shared a bed, the thought of him touching another woman with such tenderness and passion, especially Belle, had driven her crazy. They hadn't talked about their future yet, but, she couldn't imagine how she would tolerate him going there, even just for a drink or a game of cards.
And now these dresses. Maybe she had really overreacted, because Rhett did have good taste, he always looked impeccable himself, and she was just so tired of black and then old dresses that she didn't see the whole picture, paying attention only to the bright details.
She sighed, but decided to change into her dressing gown; she didn't want to go out to dinner tonight, she just wanted to make up with Rhett and fall asleep in his arms. She noted that she was hungry, but dismissed the feeling as she'd done before.
Rhett wandered the streets of New Orleans in a terrible mood, cursing his long tongue and the bad words he'd said to her in the heat of the moment. Of course, he dared not think of comparing her to Belle and those girls. Of course she was a lady, despite her vivid emotional reactions. She had been born a lady and brought up that way.
He realized that he had overdone it, that it had been too long since she had worn pretty things. After all, her whole youth had been spent in black dresses. He knew he should apologize and then hug her tightly. Somehow this fight was unbearable, because they'd opened up to each other so much in those two weeks. Both physically and emotionally. He'd never felt so whole, so happy with anyone else. He'd never felt so at peace with anyone else.
So after walking another lap round the block, he hurried to their room. Dinner time was approaching.
When he entered, he did not find her in the living room, but he saw her sitting in the bedroom, staring blankly out the window.
"She didn't even look in my direction," irritation was rising in him again.
"He didn't even come near me," she reflected bitterly.
Rhett silently threw his jacket on the chair, but his pride prevented him from speaking first. Neither did hers.
It was eight in the evening, he poured himself a whisky and sat in the living room, leaving her in the bedroom.
By close to nine he was getting angry and resentful. "She hasn't eaten, we missed dinner, but we can still go downstairs or order dinner here. Why is she so stubborn!" he thought and then, overcoming his pride, he stood up and walked firmly towards her.
But Scarlett was already asleep, curled up on her side of the bed with her back turned to him.
Rhett sighed heavily, shook his head, then quietly walked around the bed, leaned over to her, and barely touched his lips to her hair.
He decided to have a few more drinks before bed and went out into the living room, closing the door slightly behind him.
She was running again. In a thick, sticky fog that seemed to penetrate her and prevent her from breathing... It was dark, cold and constantly hungry. Images of her mother, her father, Wade's hungry eyes appeared all around her as she ran, ran, ran. But, the air was getting thin, that fog was getting into her lungs. She wanted to scream, but only a sob escaped her chest.
She heard her name, spoken in a voice so familiar to her, and felt hands she thought she'd recognize anywhere. She opened her eyes and saw Rhett's anxious face bent over her. His arms were hugging her tightly. He was sitting beside her on the bed, holding her to his chest and only repeating, "I'm with you, with you, do you hear me? Scarlett... It was only a dream, Darling. I'm with you, Honey..."
Rhett heard her sobs from the living room as he finished the last of his glass and was about to lie down beside her and hug her tightly.
The sobs startled him and a moment later he was with her, quietly trying to wake her up.
It was later, soothed in his arms, that she quietly told him about the nightmares that had plagued her before she finally knew he was alive.
"Rhett," she said quietly as they sat at the headboard and he put his arm around her waist, "I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to say those things..."
He buried his face in her hair, sighed and whispered, "And I'm sorry too, Scarlett, it was a stupid fight that could have been avoided..."
"Rhett," she said in a soft and questioning voice, "please, until I fall asleep, can you hold me?"
He smiled and only nodded.
He stroked her hair affectionately and she fell asleep quickly. Rhett gently lowered her onto the pillow, then lay down beside her, wrapped his arms around her waist as was his habit, and closed his eyes, yawning softly.
The fragile peace in their small family was restored and Rhett was happy to fall asleep with a light heart, hugging the woman he loved.