Unused as she was to doling out affection, Scarlett's hand came down harder on Rhett's chest than she had intended, a slapping sound filling the room as he suddenly ceased laughing.
Refusing to be put off, she tried to rectify her mistake by rubbing clumsily over the area to soothe away the sting. Beneath her, Rhett's body drew unnaturally still, his muscles tensing up as his breath grew shallow. Scarlett paused, anticipating one of his nasty jeers, but when none came she grew bolder, tracing faintly across his broad chest until her hand disappeared under the fold of his shirt. She rubbed over his tanned skin in small circles, enjoying the strange, prickly sensation his wiry hairs created as they teased against the palm of her hand.
This light tickle coupled with the novel, oddly addictive rush that touching him afforded her, caused Scarlett's belly to grow hot and itchy. She fought hard against a sudden, overwhelming urge to rub her legs together beneath the safety of her skirts. In need of a distraction, she concentrated on her husband, watching with wide eyes as his body both relaxed and jerked beneath her scrutiny, seemingly uncertain of how it should react to being touched so delicately.
Glancing up, she saw that his eyes had fallen shut, a small, incredulous smile playing itself out across his face as if he were caught up in the midst of some pleasant, oft-imagined dream. Taking courage from his demeanour, she swept her hand further right, the side of her palm bumping up against the fleshy nub of his nipple.
A surprised grunt fell from Rhett's lips and he flipped her expertly onto her back, calling out her name in a disbelieving whisper as he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her up into a desperate kiss. Scarlett clutched at the hard muscles of his forearms as she surrendered to the feel and taste of him. Her lips fell open under the insistence of his and Rhett drew her tongue into his waiting mouth, sucking on it until he had her squirming beneath him.
This was what she wanted, what she craved in the middle of the night and what she'd unknowingly been missing these last few cold, disinterested weeks. Nothing but this could make her head swim and her blood rise as her body cried out for things that her mind, in all its enforced ignorance, could neither name nor understand.
If only every part of marital relations could feel as good as Rhett's kisses, for then she too would know the supposed pleasures that the women downstairs had so crudely discussed. For as delightful as they were, his kisses always ended up frustrating her. They promised so much and delivered so little. Like fireworks, they illuminated the dark in sudden, magnificent bursts of colour, only to fade away and leave only a blank nothingness in their wake.
Today, Scarlett resolved, it would be different. She would uncover all the things that had been unfairly kept from her and make her new set eat every last, traitorous word.
She was pulled from her thoughts by the feel of Rhett's hands roaming across her body. They cupped her breasts reverently before reaching down to slide underneath her dress, skilled fingers seeking out bare, forbidden flesh. Scarlett couldn't remember ever seeing him lose control like this, his actions taking on a fierce, almost wild edge that frightened her nearly as much as it thrilled her. Wanting both to reclaim control of the situation and hurry things along, she reached down and boldly began undoing his belt, the action breaking Rhett out of his haze as his eyes snapped up to meet hers.
'Scarlett.'
Fumbling with the buckle, her fingers tripped over themselves in their haste to undo his trousers. She let out a soft cry of triumph when it finally came apart in her hands. Tugging his trousers down as much as she could manage given their positions, she pushed at his chest until he let her up enough to roll over and present him with the fastenings which ran down the back of her dress.
Impatiently, she waited for him to undress her. When he didn't, she swivelled her head around to look at him, worried that she had done something wrong and he no longer wanted to continue. One glimpse at the fire blazing in his eyes was enough to quell her fears. Yet still he did not move, kneeling on the bed as if frozen in place, his mouth hanging open in a manner that would have made her laugh were it not for the heavy pounding of blood in her ears.
'Rhett,' she called. 'Rhett!'
He snapped out of his stupor and hurried to attend to her, ducking his head as if ashamed to have been caught in such an unguarded moment. Mask firmly restored, he set about making quick work of her clothing, removing her dress and unlacing her corset before he moved down to take off her pantalets. Left in only her underthings, Scarlett blanched when Rhett moved to lift off her chemise. The late afternoon sun was streaming in through the open window and she did not want him looking at her naked form in the daylight hours.
Keen to deter him, Scarlett turned around and pulled him in for another kiss. Thankfully her ruse worked, Rhett's hands falling away from the hem of her chemise to tangle themselves up in her hair. Before he had a chance to recover, Scarlett reached down and kicked off her drawers, pulling him on top of her as she lay down on the bed.
Laving the inside of her mouth with his tongue, Rhett's fingers trailed down her stomach to bury themselves in her curls. Panicked, Scarlett moved to intercept him, an age-old mortification seizing hold of her chest. It was wrong to be touched there. She knew it was. Nothing that made her heart leap up into her mouth like that could ever be good. Snatching up his wandering hand, she pushed it down onto the mattress and let her legs fall open either side of him.
Rhett's thighs dipped between them, the length of him rubbing against her.
'Scarlett,' he groaned, his eyes falling closed as he canted his hips forward and united them.
Scarlett bit her lip in reaction to the awkward, discomforting feeling. Was this really what Mamie Bart and her coven thought she was missing out on?
She grunted as Rhett moved deeper inside, the tentative hope she'd been cradling this last hour beginning to dwindle.
'Are you well?' Rhett asked, pausing to cup her cheek and draw her eyes to his.
Scarlett took in the look of earnest concern on his face, seeing how it battled against a growing sense of rapture. She noticed too how the muscles in his forearms shuddered as he strained to hold himself still. The pleasure emblazoned across his features was confusing to her, as incomprehensible as words written in a foreign tongue. She did not understand how two people could be connected so closely, both caught up in the very same moment, yet experience it so differently.
'Am I hurting you?' he asked, the beginnings of a frown puckering his brow as he took in the coolness of her expression.
'No,' she answered truthfully.
It did not hurt, and yet something about the situation made her want to cry. She was gripped by the terrible suspicion that the women downstairs had known she was eavesdropping and had conspired to humiliate her by making up a ridiculous story about marital relations being pleasurable. It was the only explanation. No woman in their right mind could find this crude indignity enjoyable.
Rhett's frown darkened, swooping low over his face and driving out the light.
'But it does not feel good, either?'
Too disappointed to pretend, Scarlett shook her head.
Rhett moved to pull away but she dug her fingers into his shoulders and clutched him to her.
'Don't!' she cried, not wanting the moment to end. She did not want to admit defeat. Not about this. She did not know why the idea had excited her as much as it had. Did not know why she had leapt at the chance to find solace in Rhett's touch when she did not love him and barely even liked him most of the time. And yet leap at it she had.
'I won't do this without your approval, Scarlett. Despite what you may think of me, I've never lain with a woman who was not willing. I take no pleasure in seeing you so uncomfortable. I wish for our time together to be something you enjoy, not something you make yourself endure.'
'I want to enjoy it, Rhett. I do. I just...I don't...'
'Know how?'
Scarlett nodded, unable to look at him.
'I'll help you, honey,' he swore passionately, settling back between her legs and canting his hips forward.
Scarlett held onto him as he moved over her, willing herself to give in to the feeling but unable to quiet her thoughts. They assaulted her like gunfire, repeatedly dragging her out of the moment. Determined to chase them away, she gripped him tighter, the action ripping a groan from Rhett's throat. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his hot breath irritating her ear and making her flinch to get away. The movement exposed more of her neck and, misreading her intention, Rhett began laying kisses along its length.
Below, the constant rubbing sensation brought a small, sweet ache to the lower depths of Scarlett's stomach. She sighed in relief, finally beginning to feel it.
'Better?' Rhett asked, his lips now tracing her collarbone.
'Better,' she agreed, the mad urge to laugh overtaking her.
Encouraged, Rhett nipped at her jaw and wrapped one of her legs around his waist. As his movements grew faster he dropped his forehead and panted heavily against the dampened, sweat-slick skin of her breast. Scarlett tried hard to concentrate on the sensations he was creating, to overcome her natural reservations and forget all the lessons that had been so rigorously drilled into her prior to her debut as a belle.
Yet, try as she might, the sparks of her desire simply would not catch afire and, growing frustrated, she knew her body was crying out for something more. Hoping his kisses would provide the answer, she used her free hand to pull at the sensitive hairs of Rhett's nape until he raised his head and allowed her to fuse their mouths together.
Rising up onto his elbows, the change in angle caused Rhett to brush against something vital and electric within Scarlett. Something that, up until now, had lain hidden and untouched, a secret even unto herself. The sensations it provoked were frightening in their blistering intensity and, unable to make out if they were good or bad, Scarlett's first reaction was to jerk away.
'Did I hurt you?' Rhett asked, immediately pulling back.
Scarlett moaned in disappointment, wanting to feel it again but not knowing quite how to ask.
'I'm sorry, honey,' Rhett crooned, peppering her face and throat with kisses.
Annoyed, Scarlett tightened her legs around him in an effort to draw him deeper but the action seemed to set something off in Rhett. Letting loose an animal-like grunt, the pleasing rhythm he had built up broke down as his thrusts grew wild and his breathing strained. Once more his hand slid down the expanse of her body in search of the place they were joined, only for Scarlett to tense up and wrench it back, interlocking their fingers to stop him from trying again.
Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes back up and tried to chase a feeling that was racing further away from her with each passing second. Determined to reclaim it, she chased Rhett with her hips when he began to withdraw, raising her lower body off the bed to try and bring back that elusive pressure that had ripped through her like a lightning bolt.
'Scarlett,' Rhett cried, his eyes flashing jet black as he watched her. His hands grasping at her waist, Rhett's entire body grew painfully taut and he released a groan from the very depths of his throat. Before she knew what was happening, he had collapsed heavily on top of her, remaining there even when his weight became oppressive and she slapped him none too gently on the back to get him to move.
Returning to herself, Scarlett became uncomfortably aware of the sweat that clung to their bodies as it began to cool and stick. Wriggling in discomfort, she felt Rhett soften and slip out, leaving her every bit as empty and unfulfilled as always.
So Mamie Bart and company had been playing a mean trick, after all. Relations weren't enjoyable. At best they were painless and somewhat pleasurable, but certainly nothing more than that. The idea that any woman would seek this out night after night was ridiculous. Scarlett would sooner seek out scurvy.
Scarlett felt more disgruntled than ever, her body demanding something for which she now knew there was no solution. A crushing sense of disappointment washed over her at the thought that there was nothing special to be had here, no secret joy to uncover. It was almost as if she had been promised a beautiful present only to unwrap the box and find nothing inside.
Caught up in her thoughts, she missed the look of open devotion that lay on Rhett's face in the minutes after their union, the wonder of seeing her instigate their relations having broken down his defences and left him wholly vulnerable to her scrutiny had she only had the presence of mind to turn her head and see it. Overjoyed, he took hold of her chin and lifted her eyes to his, hardly daring to imagine what emotions he would uncover in their precious, emerald depths.
Unaware of the light in his eyes and missing the way his whole body seemed to tremor with barely restrained anticipation, Scarlett scowled up at him with all the anger of her wounded pride and pain of her dashed hopes.
She felt a fool for ever believing that marital relations could bring her happiness and was determined that Rhett should never find out. Too hung up on hiding her own feelings, Scarlett missed the look of crushing devastation that swept across his features as he looked into her hard, unloving eyes. Nor did she notice the supreme effort it took for him to smother his emotions and wipe his face blank once more.
'Let me up,' she demanded crossly, pushing at his chest until he rolled off and she could make her escape.
Needing to put some space between them, she clambered off the bed and made her way over to the vanity. She needed a moment to compose herself before she could stomach meeting her own eye in the mirror. Sure enough, when she caught sight of her flushed cheeks and swollen lips she could happily have clawed them off with her nails. Stupid. It was all so stupid. Eyeing the haystack that was once her hair with disdain, she picked up a brush and yanked it cruelly through her frazzled curls, grateful for the distraction that the pain afforded her.
'I shouldn't bother with appearances if I were you, my dear,' Rhett drawled from the bed, the earlier passion stripped from his voice so that it once again resembled that of a cold, impersonal stranger. 'I shan't be staying in for supper and those charmless ladies you so misguidedly deem to be your friends have already left.'
Scarlett kept on attacking her hair, ignoring the pang that passed through her at the knowledge that, yet again, he would be dining away from home. No doubt he would go to Belle's and tell that terrible woman all about their afternoon activities or, worse still, select one of her girls for the night as if it had meant nothing to him.
Men were such vile, horrible creatures, she fumed as she yanked out a large knot, running around inflicting their passions on wives they didn't even have the good grace to remain faithful to. Well, from now on, Rhett could bed as many fancy women as he liked, for never again would she be foolish enough to encourage his attentions.
'I pity you, my pet,' he went on when she did not answer, his voice becoming smoother with each syllable in a way that told her he was positively itching for a fight. 'For one day the Republicans shall be soundly evicted from their seat of power in Georgia and then where will you and your poor excuse for a friendship circle be?'
'The Democrats will never get back,' Scarlett said loftily, refusing to take the bait he was throwing down at her feet. Knowing Scarlett well enough to successfully provoke her was one of Rhett's most perverse joys in life and - though once he had professed that he could stand anything from her but a lie - in truth, she knew nothing upset him more than her indifference.
Sure enough, his voice grew icier as he continued on. 'They will get back. I know Southerners. I know Georgians. They are a tough and bullheaded lot. If they've got to fight another war to get back, they'll fight another war. Things are going to get so bad under the benign rule of our good friend Rufus Bullock that Georgia is going to vomit him up.'
Scrunching up her nose at the foul language, Scarlett forgot all her good intentions and found herself arguing back, 'You talk like I wouldn't be glad to see the Democrats come back! And you know that isn't so! Do you think I like to see these soldiers hanging around, reminding me of - do you think I like - why, I'm a Georgian too!'
The accusation stung, for Scarlett knew that part of the reason the Old Guard hadn't come calling was their belief that Scarlett had switched sides, defecting over to the Yankees and leaving the rest of the South to rot. It wasn't the least bit fair. Sure, she had to pretend to be civil to them to keep her businesses from coming under attack, but underneath it all she was every bit as proud a Confederate as those who had fought and died for the Cause. It was bad enough to have the Old Cats thinking so unkindly of her, but to know Rhett shared their derision was somehow so much worse.
'I'd like to see the Democrats get back but they won't. Not ever. And even if they did, how would that affect my friends?' she argued, momentarily forgetting that after the events of this afternoon she no longer liked them anyway. 'They'd still have their money, wouldn't they?'
Rhett's lip curled up nastily at the mention of money, but she ignored his spiteful expression. 'If they kept their money. But I doubt the ability of any of them to keep money more than five years at the rate they're spending. Easy come, easy go.'
Rising suddenly from the bed, Rhett bent to retrieve his trousers. Scarlett tracked him in the mirror, sensing that their argument was reaching its climax and watching him warily in case he made any sudden movements. She needn't have troubled herself, for words had always been his preferred weapons of choice. 'Their money won't do them any good. Any more than my money has done you any good. It certainly hasn't made a horse out of you yet, has it, my pretty mule?'
Enraged, she dropped the brush with a clatter and spun around to face him. He knew how badly Mammy's words had wounded her and yet still he mocked her with them. And to think she had been silly enough to reach out to him in the hope that this man, who seemingly lived only to hurt her, was in any way capable of bringing her pleasure! Well, she'd certainly never do that again.
'Get out!' she cried, unable to stand being in the same room as him a moment longer. 'Get out this instant, and don't come back until you're ready to say you're sorry.'
Chuckling lightly to himself, Rhett buttoned his shirt and swung his jacket jauntily over his shoulder before walking over to her. 'In that case,' he murmured silkily in her ear, his actions a spiteful mockery of his earlier lover's caress. 'I wouldn't wait up.'
Furious, Scarlett yanked her face from his grip, turning away so she wouldn't have to see the cruel smirk painted across his awful, wretched face. Oh, how she hated him! Hated the way he could get to her so easily when nothing she ever did seemed capable of hurting him.
The door to their bedroom opened and he was gone without a word, leaving her alone and hopelessly adrift in a room still heavy with the scent of their recent coupling.
