Given that Scarlett had spent the majority of the carriage ride home imagining how Rhett would kiss her once they got in through the door, she was more than a touch disappointed when, mere seconds after entering the hallway, he abandoned her in favour of helping Pork stable the horses.
'That mare's been acting up something fierce these last few weeks and Pork's not the spry young buck he was in your father's day,' he'd said by way of an explanation, pausing long enough to take his coat from her shoulders.
Watching him leave, Scarlett wasn't sure whether she should wait for him to come back or make her way up to bed. It seemed silly to remain standing alone so late at night, the lights long since extinguished and with only the silvery shadow of the moon to illuminate the empty hallway. Worse still, Rhett was bound to read something suggestive into it if she were still here when he returned. No doubt he'd make some jibe about her inability to function without him. The sort of thing she'd have brushed off in the past, but which would now cut dangerously close to the bone.
And yet, she reasoned, wasn't that exactly what she'd been wanting ever since they'd left the restaurant? For Rhett to read her desire and find a way to satisfy it?
Flashes of her earlier fantasies flitted behind her eyelids, images of slow, close-mouthed kisses and sweet looks soon giving way to lurid thoughts of him pinning her up against the door as their world dissolved into nothing but hands that stroked and grabbed and tongues that duelled and danced together in the darkness.
Scarlett yearned for his kisses more than anything. More than a soft bed upon which to lie her tired body or a glass of warm milk to settle her overfilled stomach. They meant more to her than her own dignity, for she knew that was what she'd be relinquishing if she were to wait for him. If Rhett returned to find her here, then he would know that she desired him. He would know, and all the power would be his.
Long minutes passed while she deliberated what to do, her heart pulling her in one direction and her head - though somewhat weakened by the wine - trying valiantly to lead her in the other. In the end, she hesitated a fraction too long.
The choice was taken out of her hands when the door opened and Rhett stepped back inside. The look of surprise on his face when he spotted her would have been comical had Scarlett been calm enough to enjoy it. Stopping dead halfway through the act of taking off his coat, Rhett stared at her blankly before his shock morphed into concern.
'Scarlett? Are you well?'
Scarlett nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
'I'm glad. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if you were feeling a tad nauseous after all those puddings you consumed,' he teased. 'I suppose trifling ailments like stomach aches are for weaker women, though. You, my pet, are made of sterner stuff.'
Only half listening, Scarlett wondered petulantly when exactly Rhett planned on kissing her. The hallway was cold and dark and she'd rather not wait much longer.
'You'd better get off to bed before you catch a chill,' he said, irritating Scarlett by walking away to hang up his coat. 'I have some urgent business that I need to attend to before I retire. I shall bid you good night now, my dear, for I doubt I'll be up before you've fallen asleep.'
Frowning, Scarlett almost didn't notice when Rhett moved forward to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead.
'Goodnight, Scarlett,' he murmured against her brow as he pulled away, his warm breath ghosting gently across her face.
Wrong-footed, Scarlett could only stand there like a ninny as Rhett turned away. That piffling little kiss was a cruel mockery of the ones she'd been imagining. It didn't sit right with her that Rhett could so easily abandon her in favour of his work, as if a bunch of lifeless numbers and figures were more worthy of his attention than she was.
Blindly, she groped around for something to make him come back, the memory of how he had wrapped her up in his arms when she'd stumbled outside the hotel offering the perfect solution. Seeing that Rhett had almost reached the study door, Scarlett feigned another stumble. She cried out as she bent her knee awkwardly and pretended to trip.
'Scarlett!' Rhett called, dashing back toward her, his face pale in a way that helped appease Scarlett's wounded vanity.
'It's nothing,' she said, drawing upon her scant acting talent. 'I just placed my foot down wrong, that's all. I'm sure I'll be fine to walk all the way up the stairs to bed on my own, Rhett. You go back to your work, don't you worry about me.'
She feared that she may have been laying it on a little too thick with that last line, but, by some lucky miracle, Rhett failed to see through her charade. He was too busy kneeling down to inspect the non-existent damage to pay heed to the telling catch in her throat. Tenderly, he lifted her foot onto his thigh, slipping off her shoe and taking her ankle between his palms. He rotated the joint one way and then the other, watching her closely as he did.
The sight of the powerful, muscular Rhett Butler looking up at her from his knees did curious, disconcerting things to Scarlett's stomach, and too late did she realise that he was checking to see if her ankle was hurting. Rushing to salvage the situation, she hissed in pain and jerked her foot sharply in his hands.
'Is it hurting you badly?' he asked, his dark eyes fixed upon her face in a way that made Scarlett's breath catch.
'A little.'
'Do you think you can walk on it?'
Inside Scarlett's head, his innocent question set off an avalanche of indecision as she warred against the practicalities of continuing her act and bravely saying no, and the fear that Rhett would take her at her word and disappear back into that dreadful study for the rest of the night. Thankfully, Rhett seemed to think her continued silence was its own answer.
'I know you detest asking for help, my dear, but I do believe this is one occasion where it can't be avoided,' Rhett quipped, standing up and extending his arms out towards her.
Surprised by his loving response to her little injury, Scarlett could only stand and stare as he gestured for her to hoist herself up into his arms.
'Come, Scarlett, put your arms around my neck. I promise that no matter how fiercely Mammy may interrogate me, I'll go to my grave insisting you climbed the stairs alone and entirely unaided.'
The joke served to pull Scarlett out of her daze and, quickly, she leapt into Rhett's arms. She wanted to enjoy being carried but worried that she'd be expected to think up yet another excuse to keep him inside their bedroom once they reached it. Thinking hard, Scarlett laid her head against Rhett's chest as he began to ascend the stairs.
She kept it cushioned there as they moved towards their bedroom, closing her eyes as the gentle sway of his steps began to lull her into a peaceful, wine-induced slumber. She may well have fallen asleep completely had Rhett not jostled her. Opening her eyes, Scarlett was shocked to find that she was lying on her bed, Rhett's face bearing down over her as he coaxed her to roll over onto her stomach so that he could unfasten her dress.
The undoing of her corset, when it finally came, was enough to make Scarlett groan out loud. Without its constricting embrace, she was finally free to take her first proper breath after hours of near suffocation.
After removing most of her clothes, Rhett stepped back, leaving Scarlett lying on the sheets in only her thin chemise. Rolling languidly onto her back, Scarlett smiled inwardly when Rhett's eyes hungrily followed the movement like a cat watching a bird flit from one branch to another. Emboldened, she sought to prolong the moment by stretching as she turned, making sure to arch her back and flutter her lashes.
Scarlett did not know where her newfound confidence had sprung from - although part of her wondered if the large quantity of alcohol still swimming through her veins wasn't at least partially responsible - but she did know that she liked the way it made her feel.
Looking up at Rhett's loose jaw and wide eyes, Scarlett realised she'd been wrong to think that admitting her desire meant handing all the power over to her husband. If anything, acknowledging her needs only made her feel stronger. Now she was free to act on her impulses without having to wait for Rhett to instigate relations.
She sat up, intending to pull Rhett down for a kiss. He surprised her by stepping back from the bed, a strange, conflicted expression playing out across his swarthy features.
'I should let you rest, my pet,' he said hoarsely, his hands curling up into tight fists. 'You've had a long day and I have a lot of work that I must see to before I turn in.'
'Don't you want...' she trailed off, unable to make herself say it.
'Don't I what?' he asked, spinning back around before she'd even finished speaking, his hands unfurling as though he meant to reach for her.
Scarlett felt her nerve deserting her the longer she stared into his face. What if he laughed at her? She could not risk the humiliation.
Deciding it was safer to remain silent, she ducked her head. 'It doesn't matter.'
A heavy silence descended. Scarlett could feel Rhett's eyes burning into the top of her head, but she would not look up. She couldn't.
A sigh seeped into the night, but whether it had come from him or her, Scarlett could not tell. She tilted her head and snuck a peek between tightly shuttered lashes, disappointment gripping her when she saw he was walking away.
Scarlett knew she should let Rhett go, but she did not want to. That was the truth of it. The stormy wind of madness had swept all her good sense away, and Scarlett found herself scrambling towards the foot of the bed.
'Wait, Rhett,' she gasped.
She did not know what she was doing. No one had ever explained how a lady was supposed to act in this situation. Why hadn't they told her how to seduce a man without making him either laugh or grow disgusted? She had no idea what she was supposed to say, if there was a specific set of words that all refined women used when they found themselves in this position, or if she the first one to ever feel this way.
She wished that someone had pulled her aside one day in between dance lessons and talks of etiquette to tutor her on lessons in love. Surely, it wasn't fair to let a girl go to her marriage bed without having first schooled her on the subject? It was nothing short of cruel to teach girls how to endure unpleasant sensations without also telling them how to ask for the reverse.
Seeing as no one had ever taken the time to educate her, Scarlett knew that, yet again, she would only have her own instincts to fall back on. Well, so be it. They'd served her right so far, hadn't they?
If her gut was all she had to go on, then right now it was screaming at her not to let Rhett leave. Desperate to have him stay, she opened her mouth and blurted out the first thing that came into her overwrought mind, coarse and scandalous as it was.
'Take it off.'
Rhett stopped dead. Scarlett's words reached across the distance between them and pulled him back to her. When he turned, Rhett looked every bit as shocked as Scarlett felt, his eyebrows disappearing up into his hairline as he stared at her as if seeing her for the very first time.
'Scarlett?'
'Your waistcoat. Take it off.'
Her words must have sounded so laughable to a man of his experience, so pitiful compared to the skilled, artful ones employed by those dreadful women in that ghastly saloon he visited. She expected him to protest, to taunt her for her forward display, or, perhaps, to simply sneer and walk out of the room in contempt. She screwed her eyes up tight, unable to watch it happen.
'As you wish,' he said instead.
Peeking out from beneath her lashes, Scarlett's heart leapt into her throat when she saw Rhett raise shaking hands to his waistcoat and, fumbling, begin to undo the buttons.
Scarlett hardly dared breathe as Rhett unfastened all the buttons and slipped the waistcoat from his shoulders. The sound of the fabric hitting the floor was deafeningly in the silent room. Like the blast of a wartime cannon, it shattered through walls that she'd previously thought impenetrable.
'Your cravat,' Scarlett croaked, her voice catching as she felt a tremor of excitement pump through her veins.
There was something so indecent about ordering Rhett to carry out her bidding, almost as if he were her servant rather than her spouse. It did terrible, glorious things to her lower regions, her legs threatening to collapse out from underneath her.
Scarlett's sense of incredulity only intensified when Rhett wordlessly obliged, tugging roughly at his cravat until it fell open to expose the tanned expanse of his throat.
'Your shirt.'
Instead of balking at her request, Rhett's eyes darkened, their blackness all-consuming as he reached up and began to take off his shirt. Inch by inch, his stomach and chest were revealed to her. Scarlett's fingers itched to touch the dark hairs that carpeted his torso and paved a little-trodden trail down to the top of his trousers.
She panicked as the shirt joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, wondering how she was ever going to pluck up the courage to demand that he continue undressing. For several, fruitless seconds, she tried and failed to make the words come out, cursing the decorum which stood like a barrier between her and her desire.
Growing frustrated, she reached out and tapped the buckle of his belt, retracting her hand as if the metal had grown molten and scalded her skin.
The thick, corded veins in Rhett's forearms strained as he pulled his belt loose and allowed his trousers to fall around his ankles. The bulge in Rhett's pants stood out glaringly beneath his underwear, the startling, obscene sight of it making Scarlett's cheeks grow hot.
'Take them off.'
Rhett looked deep into her eyes as he slid his hands beneath the lip of his underwear and pulled them down, baring himself fully.
In all the months since their wedding, never had Scarlett seen him so clearly. Before now, she'd always taken care to keep her eyes closed and her face averted whenever things turned intimate. Now though, Scarlett would not have looked away for all the gold in Georgia.
After years of living with men without ever quite knowing them, it was a heady, intoxicating thing to be able to stare so openly, to study her husband as he stood before her, open and entirely unashamed.
She had been wrong to think the sight would appall her. It was disconcerting, yes, but there was a masculine grace to Rhett's naked body, a bluntness and a beauty in its every muscle.
Scarlett reached out a shaking hand and pressed it against his chest. The dark hairs prickled pleasingly against her palm. She rubbed over his chest in wide circles, before desire got the better of her and she slid her hand downwards, trailing it over the hard, smooth ridges of his stomach. She dipped the tip of her index finger into his naval before continuing lower, her wrist bumping against the very thing she was both eager and terrified to take in her hand.
Before she could, Rhett's stillness cracked wide open. Groaning, he surged forward and crushed their mouths together. Scarlett fell clumsily back on the bed, Rhett's weight pushing her down into the mattress as he plundered her mouth like a starving man in need of sustenance.
It felt wonderful to have him kiss her at last, to feel their lips touch and their tongues collide. She grabbed at him blindly, determined to claim as much of his body as she could. Scarlett could feel Rhett's urgency rolling off him in waves, and she let her thighs fall open, pushing down on his lower back until the solid, scorching length of him moved inside.
Scarlett moaned into Rhett's mouth as he began to move, his strokes confident and firm as his hands came up to twist and tangle with her own. Her hips stuttered as she realised she wanted more. She missed the thrill of controlling their coupling and yearned to feel the great Rhett Butler bend to her will once more.
All her life, the things that took place between married couples in darkened bedrooms had been entirely decided for her by men. Each of her three husbands had come to her when they pleased, positioned her as they saw fit and used her body as they desired. None had ever been deliberately rough or cruel. She had not resisted - lately, it could even be said that she had come to comply rather enthusiastically - and yet, never before had she had the chance to be in control.
Scarlett had liked taking charge and resented having her newfound power stripped from her before she'd learnt how to wield it. Some of her thoughts must have shone through in her actions, slowing her hips and roaming hands. Charles or Frank would not have noticed, but Rhett froze immediately, pulling back to stare at her.
'Scarlett? What's wrong?'
'It's nothing,' she said, embarrassed, and tried unsuccessfully to pull him into a kiss.
'Don't lie to me. Not about this. What is it, am I hurting you?' Rhett urged, cupping her chin and tilting her head up until their eyes met.
'No, Rhett.'
'But it doesn't feel good?'
Flushing beet red, Scarlett tried to explain. 'It does, it's just that...'
'Just what?'
'I...I liked it better before,' she confessed, hiding her face against his shoulder the moment the words snuck free.
'Before?' he repeated cluelessly, drawing her out of her hiding place so he could study her face.
Scarlett flushed at the thought of explaining her predicament. As forward-thinking as Rhett was, it was one thing to want a wife who enjoyed marital relations, but quite another to have one who sought to lead them altogether.
Tonight, she wanted to be the one to set the pace. The one to make Rhett gasp and jerk and cry out. She had wanted him so badly these last few days, had thought of little else in the hours since this madness had first taken hold, and she needed some slim assurance that he felt the same.
'Ah...before,' Rhett repeated, reading her need as clearly as if she'd written it across her cheeks in bright green ink.
Rhett broke into a devious smirk as he studied her appraisingly. Squeezing their joined hands, he kissed a path from her jaw to her ear, and whispered, 'You want to take the lead when we dance, honey? Then forgive me for cutting in without permission. Go right ahead. I promise I'll follow your every move.'
Shivering, Scarlett cried out when her world suddenly flipped upside down. She froze in dismay when she realised Rhett had rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top. With strong, sure hands he moved her to sit astride him. Scarlett's mouth fell open around a whimper as the new position pushed him deeper.
Moving to kneel over him, Scarlett's legs straddled her husband's hips. It set off an aching pulse between her thighs and she slapped her hands down on Rhett's stomach as she rode the sensation.
'Scarlett,' he breathed, his pupils wide and lost.
Looking down at Rhett's prone body cooled Scarlett's ardour, making her feel shamefully exposed. She was uncomfortably aware that everything from her face to the curve of her bent knees was on display. Scarlett's cheeks burned crimson at the thought of being seen so clearly by the very man she wished to hide from most.
With her heart palpitating in her breast, and mere seconds away from clambering off the bed and locking herself in the wardrobe never to come out, Scarlett jolted when Rhett's palm rose to cup her cheek.
'Aren't you curious to know how it feels to take the reins, my pet?' he murmured, his voice so soft the words floated weightlessly in the air between them. 'Come, Scarlett, we both know you've been dying to bring me to heel since the day we met. Well, now's your chance, my pet. Take it.'
Sneak a glance at his face, Scarlett was surprised to find that his eyes were free from both teasing and scorn, their black depths filled only with desire and a small, bright flame that seemed perilously close to breaking free.
Scarlett drew courage from it, reassured that this was no idle game or nasty joke being played at her expense, but rather an honest proposition by a man who seemed as eager to relinquish the reins as she was to grab hold of them.
Taking a deep breath, Scarlett screwed her eyes closed and moved with a small, jerk-like spasm. It was tiny and more than a little awkward, yet Rhett's answering groan made Scarlett feel fifty foot tall.
Smiling, she did it again.
And again.
Laying her hands on Rhett's stomach to balance herself, she lifted up and rolled her hips. The drag of soft, slick skin was almost too sweet to stand.
'Scarlett.'
Rhett's voice was a hoarse drawl that made her clench around him. The rough callouses of his fingers traced idle patterns along her inner thighs. It had never felt this good before. He was so deep inside her that she feared he would never find his way out. Worse still, she worried she'd feel terribly empty if he did.
Being on top allowed her to push down, rubbing against him in a way that made her head spin and her lungs give out. She felt unbearably full one moment and unbelievably free the next. Scarlett wasn't sure she'd be able to bear it for much longer.
She knew that she needed to though, for she could feel that elusive peak approaching with every pass of her hips. Every panting breath and grind of her pelvis brought her closer. Yet, even as she began the ascent, her arms quaked beneath her, Scarlett's head lolling heavily on her neck as she cried out helplessly.
'Rhett, please, oh please, I need...huh, I need...'
Her words were senseless, her movements weakening yet frantic as she collapsed down onto him. A distraught cry slipped from her lips as she fell. She had been so close.
'Shh,' Rhett soothed, rising up to catch her boneless body and draw her close. Laying her head against the hot, sticky skin of his shoulder, Rhett knelt up on the mattress, anchoring Scarlett against his chest as he began to thrust.
'Rhett,' she moaned helplessly, clutching at him as she gathered the last of her energy and bravely tried to match his movements, the two of them working together to reach their desired end.
Sat face to face, barely an inch of hot, humid air between them, Scarlett had never felt so close to her husband. His dark eyes bored steadily into hers as their bodies ground together. Reaching up, she captured his lips in one final kiss, pouring an entire carriage ride's worth of yearning into his open mouth as she kissed him with everything she had left to give.
A strong, sharp thrust angled just right had her crying out and shuddering around him, her teeth biting down on his bottom lip as she crumpled against his chest. The taste of blood filled her mouth as Rhett grunted Scarlett's name and jerked beneath her.
The madness passed like a storm. Rhett fell back onto the mattress, pulling Scarlett with him. Their chests heaving, they clung to each other for a long time afterwards. Rhett kissed her forehead and set about diligently sweeping back the damp strands of hair that clung stubbornly to her cheeks. Scarlett watched him work with tired, curious eyes.
Who was this man who taunted her so cruelly but touched her so sweetly? What did he want from her?
'I thought I knew you so well, my pet,' Rhett laughed, echoing her thoughts. 'So how is it that you never seem to stop surprising me?'
Scarlett's worries dissolved and she found herself laughing along with him.
'You know, Rhett,' she said, yawning widely as she snuggled closer and let her eyes drift closed. 'Sometimes I surprise myself.'