Hello everyone! I hope you are fine. As promised, an early chapter, and an important one that might make you scream. This one is the first that came to my mind as I thought of the story, and I hope to have led it well that way. Perhaps not. I'll think of it again tomorrow, when my mind is clearer :)
There is the infamous April 1861, folks! We finally got to it!
Some maybe will be offended by some issues, and I'm sorry about it. As I said, this is no apology of such issues, and there are still a lot of chapters to come before it settles rightly.
I'll try to post next chapter this week-end, as like for this one, the main points are already written.
Good reading!
...
"So, this be it, then?"
The madam looked at the tall, dark man in front of her, a suitcase laying on the table between them.
"We'll still be friends," The man said with a smile.
"Because ye have use of me," Was countered.
He said nothing to that. Suddenly, all bravado was gone as the red-haired woman broke down, the heavy Khol sinking down her cheeks, and revealing beneath the amount of rouge what he knew to be a pleasant, if not creamy, complexion.
"It's because of that girl, isn't it?" She said tearfully. "You said you were neither a marrying man, nor a fool."
He lowered his head.
"I'm a fool."
"And..." She gulped. "... a marrying man?"
"That's not going to happen." He tried to tell himself, yet knew in his heart it was a lie if all went according to plan.
"She'd be a fool not to want you."
"She'd be a fool to want me." Rhett forced himself to say, before muttering, his heart sinking. "And yet, I want her to be a fool, for all would be so easy."
He had made his mind that he would protect her, take her to a place where she would meet no hardship, and England seemed a place among others that would fit the bill.
Yet, indeed, it implied a part that made him hesitant. For taking her there meant he had to justify it. A man traveling with a woman that was not of his blood would draw attention where he wanted to be discreet.
Belle examined him closely, before laying deeper on the couch with a sigh.
"Ye'll be back," She said with a short laugh that rang wrongly to his ears. "I know it. Men like ye cannot bear it when it gets too serious."
Yet, such a remark was not one to please him.
...
Avril 1861, Clayton County
If Scarlett was disappointed over Rhett being right for the war coming after the announcement of Fort Sumter's fall, it was true shock that shook her to the core as she learned another terrifying piece of news.
Why, she had just been teasing the Tarletons twins over their dropping at University when she heard them so shamelessly talking of Ashley's future surprise proposal to Melly during the upcoming Barbecue. A surprise they were supposed to keep secret, though they did brag about dragging Ashley through many shops to find a perfect ring, the two never agreeing over it while Ashley failed to make himself heard that perhaps his mother's ring was fitting.
No, Melly can't do this! Scarlett thought. She couldn't when the one she loved was... No, she couldn't!
It was already hard enough that she, Scarlett, could not have the one she wanted, but that Melly as well had to bear it, and to the likes of Ashley Wilkes! That was more than she could suffer for.
Why, she had thought he was about to propose to her! How vexing. How truly vexing.
Bah, she soon dismissed. Ashley was easily influenced, and certainly it was his father that urged at the union. Then, she understood all the more his behavior on the road to Tara days before.
But Melly! No, she couldn't believe it.
Well, it could be arranged. She, Scarlett, as a good friend, couldn't just let that happen. It was a proposal, after all. Not the announcement of the engagement. She still had time to prevent it if such was the case. A swooning, maybe, might do the trick to delay and talk things over.
In fact, it suddenly came to her mind that a proposal in such a public place was a way to push the timid girl to accept. And that made her all the more angrier.
More worried about the prospect of it happening to one she cared for, she did not try to verify it from her father who would be coming back from the Wilkes.
But maybe, maybe... Maybe Melly had lied, the sneaky thing, and welcomed it! Came the treacherous thought. Oh, what a malicious thing, if she had!
Her mind was too disturbed by the news that she failed to have the courtesy to invite the two boys over for supper.
One thing that Mammy, when she finally caught up with her with a shawl to avoid freckles from growing on her skin, severely berated for.
"No more manner than a wench!" She grumbled as she tried to put the fabric around Scarlett's shoulders, who sat placidly during such an abuse. "My poor Miz Ellen, had she see dat!"
"La, Mammy!" Scarlett dismissed, irritated. "You know the Tarletons twins are ogres."
That only seemed to offend the woman more. She was ruffled as a hen, and if her hair had been shown, Scarlett felt sure it would bristle in every direction.
"Be dey ogres, we kan still feed an army of dem! We be not poor, far from it!"
From hen she became peacock, and it seemed quite contagious for Scarlett bragged all the same. A satisfied little smile came to her lips, and it made her dismiss for a moment all of Rhett's former remarks.
Nay, all would be fine. Hadn't she insisted on the importance of gold enough?
"Naw, mah lamb, what dress would mah lamb want to wear for tomorrow?"
God blessed Mammy for giving up on the unpleasant remonstrance over her manners! Scarlett smiled.
"The green one."
Mammy scowled.
"No, you ain'. It ain' fittin' fer mawnin'."
"Yes, I will."
"Ah be tellin' yer Ma. 'bout you."
She said nothing to that, and Mammy pursed her lips, her eyes sharp on her favorite girl.
Better change subject, then, she thought. With a sigh, Scarlett let herself fell on Mammy's knees, and closed her eyes. Through the shadow of the porch, she could still feel the heat, and her heart thudded quickly, a dizzying drum that barely paused after two beats. She felt exhausted and downhearted.
Rhett might appear tomorrow. Yet, he would be gone by the morrow. And then, who knew?
"Mammy, have you ever been in love? Never wanted freedom for yourself?"
"Me?" The big, loving woman paused for a moment, before dismissing it. "Ah've always been too bizzy for such tings. All mah love went to me lambs. Friddom? No such tings, ye be foolish mah child. Ye belong to me. Tis ye who be not free. Ah done not raise ye for free. Ye better be good and be a pride to us all."
She kissed Mammy's big hands, the hands that had tended to her always.
"I love you, Mammy. And if it's the only thing that would make you happy, I would try to do my best," She said. "But Mammy... what if I gave you your freedom, and made sure you'd be provided with everything you need..."
"Do ye want me gone?" Distress made Mammy's voice almost shrill.
"No! No, dearest Mammy! I did not want to distress you."
Mammy huffed, then let out a fond little smile. Her hand grew more tender as she caressed the girl's hair.
"Make us proud, mah lamb. That's all I ask." Mammy said calmly."Make us proud and be true to yourself."
"The green dress would make us proud," Scarlett said sneakily. "It's the most flattering one. If you want me to catch a husband, it would certainly do the trick."
"Not de right one," She frowned, before softening at Scarlett's grin. "Alraight, mah lamb, if it please you. Ah done trust you... If you wear a showl. No..."
"Freckles, I know."
Mammy grinned back.
"You better git de best one of dem."
Prayers were made, and resolutions taken. Scarlett prepared for battle, and the morrow did not come soon enough as she gathered all her weapons and armor.
She thought of Mammy's words a little more as the older woman laced the dress with a few more grumblings.
Oh, but these two things were quite contradictory! How could she achieve such thing?
She told her so.
"Ah now ye'll find a way. Now, begone wit ye! Dey'll go widout ye!"
And she did. They soon joined the Tarletons, and, with Randa's sneaky remarks, all Tarleton girls fell on Scarlett for her lack of manner the other day.
"My poor brothers," Randa added dramatically. "How broken-hearted! How could you have done this to them?"
Scarlett only smiled, and took the blame graciously. Soon enough, they had indeed to concede that the two boys were unbearable anyway, and the conversation turned to breeding (a courtesy to Mrs. Tarleton), and breeding led to the Wilkes. The smile became a smirk as Scarlett very much agreed with it, and noted every word to be sure to transmit it to Melly.
Her mind was very set to it, and her objective so clear she almost dismissed all that did not have any links to it, to the risk of being impolite. So very set that she slid like a snake among the crowd, and lost Randa in it.
"Oh, Melly!" She cried as she finally met her friend, all gentle eyes and smile, before urging her to a more remote place, under the shadows of the meadows where had been put some comfortable chairs for the rest of the elder women (who thankfully were still cackling and eagerly watching the arrival of the young ones). "I've heard such a new!" Her voice lowered with the eagerness of a secret about to be revealed.
"What new?"
The glint in her eyes hardened a little, the snake looking at the innocent dove who was still unaware of danger.
"What? Of your imminent engagement to..."
"Who? I'm not engaged!"
Melly blushed, yet raised timid eyes that shone with a hazy little smile.
Scarlett blinked and narrowed her eyes. Oh, the little fool! Who did she think she was talking about? Certainly, the blond-haired boy couldn't make her flutter so! As if one could dream about him so!
"Why, to Ashley!"
"Ashley!"
Astounded, Melanie fell on the chair like a feather. She was pale and seemed haggard.
Scarlett softened. She had been too hard for her, she thought. She should have known better than just blurt all that out. She sat by her side and looked at her quietly. Shame came to her, as well as regret, and she began to reconsider.
"And you, what do you want?" She said begrudgingly. "Do you truly want to marry him?"
"No!" Melly protested, gripping the handles, before faltering, lost in internal struggles. "But that's what they want me to do. Yes, that's what I should... But Scarlett! I know it would break your heart!"
Mind your own, Scarlett wanted to say in front of these tearfully pleading eyes. Mine had born the marks of many blows. It can still go on. Yours is fragile.
"And I..." The poor girl gulped, then regained a bit of composure. "And then I know it's what would make them happy," She said placidly, though her bright eyes betrayed an intense distress. "Oh, Scarlett, I don't know what to do! What would you do? Oh, dear Scarlett, what would you want me to do?"
She put her head on Scarlett's wrist, and it made her heart squeeze painfully in guilt.
"It doesn't matter what I want," Scarlett said softly.
"But you love..."
She bit her lip, then decided. She had better be honest. She owed it to her. If only to ease the shame from her chest. Her eyes were downcast as she answered with difficulty.
"I don't love Ashley. I love... another. There, you can make your own choice, without any thought of me interfering.
"Mr. Butler," Melanie's eyes widened as she rose, then she smiled widely. "I'm so happy for you two!"
"Us two?" Scarlett looked at her strangely. "Now what are you on about?"
"Oh, but, Mr. Butler loves you so!" The brown-haired girl replied eagerly, all faith in her soft eyes. "And you love him! Oh my dear, what a lovely story!"
"Now, you're saying nonsense," She said, before faltering. Oh, how could hope just come to her so when she had resigned herself? "He loves me. I know he does. Just not the way I want him to."
Melanie smiled fondly, and put her hand on her friend's elbow.
"Oh, Scarlett!"
"Don't 'oh Scarlett' me!"
"It's like in the novel!"
"What? Oh, Melly! Now, I know you're being silly. But it doesn't matter," She dismissed it quickly. "you know what I want. What about you?"
Melly's face lowered a moment to her fidgeting fingers on her dress, and Scarlett realized she had bitten them to blood. The nails were cut almost the roots.
She had tried to maintain an air of serenity. Yet, now, Melanie was at loose ends. She was trembling, the poor dear, and would soon crumble.
"I know... I know it is impossible... But I want... I want..."
Her cheeks flushed, a misty, dreamy look settling in her eyes.
"You want to be with him?"
She shook her head fiercely, yet tears came gathering on her lashes.
"My brother will never accept it,"
Scarlett was tempted to say maybe it wasn't the most important thing. Yet, she knew the bond was strong between the siblings.
"Melly... Oh, I've been a terrible friend!" She cried. "It is my fault, I know. Had I not..."
"No, it's not your fault!" Melanie replied fiercely to Scarlett's shock, before taking her into her arms. "No, never! You... You are my dearest friend!"
"A friend who interfered with your life..."
"I will not hear anything of this foolishness! I followed you, that's true. You are so much braver than me, and I wanted to be like you... But I choose to."
Her grip weakened, and the steely strength she had demonstrated seemed to falter.
"Oh, darling!" Melly cried once more. "Say you will be with me no matter what!"
"Of course, Melly. Always," Scarlett swore. "And I'll make it right to you. I swear it."
It was this charming scene of the two girls embracing each other, and fiercely making vows of friendship, that Randa discovered when she finally found them, after being harassed most unfairly by the terrible creatures she called her sisters, and who were delighting in teasing her for her lack of attempt at even showing a ladylike behavior.
"Ah, there you are. Now, why are you crying, you silly gooses, again?" Randa exclaimed good-naturedly; "Am I to be always the one to cheer you up?"
"What is it again?" The auburn-haired girl pretended to sniff as she continued. "Ah... I think I smell the terrible scent of thwarted love. Is that it?"
Scarlett smiled, while Melly let out a rueful chuckle. "No one can fool you, Randa."
Her friend tilted her head, pouting.
"Yet, I feel like I am behind in everything. Not that I'm vexed but... It would be nice to know."
It was with a few more protests and reassurances that finally, the whole story was revealed to her ears, and so surprised was she that she almost fell on her own backside when she heard it.
"Blast, what a drama!" She swore. "I expected no less from Scarlett, but you, Melly?"
Melly started, and there she was again, all ashamed! Scarlett could have cursed Randa.
"My, it just became more interesting," Her friend said, rectifying. "All for one and one for all, then?"
"The Musketeers, really? We are not men."
"No. That's why it's truer," Randa insisted. "We girls need to stick together."
Indeed, they soon agreed to it, and the oath was taken with all the genuine naivety of three girls thinking nothing could separate them. Soon, Melly regained her colors, and seemed to have found enough strength to fight it all, just as Randa and Scarlett their fierceness.
"Scarlett," Randa called sternly when she was sure Melly couldn't hear. "you must give me that man's address."
"What for?"
"Oh, just to pay a little visit."
Her devilish smirk suggested the rest.
"Me first," Scarlett countered, not willing to be outdone.
"I claimed it, I get it," Randa retorted. "Now, look who's admiring you today, and looking at you like a buccaneer about to attack a ship."
She looked up and held her breath. Rhett grinned as he saw her, before turning back to his discussion.
Would that he did!
"Alas, your lonely ship is waiting, to no avail!"
"Oh, hush Randa!"
The grin stayed for a time, especially when she took pleasure in gathering as many males as she could around her, to the profound amusement of Randa who made some crude comments, and Melly who gave it an aspect of respectability with her quiet poise, especially when Scarlett urged her beaus to get them the best morsels of food for them three.
Yet, it faltered as the men began to gather and talk of war. She listened a little, her eyes seeking on her prey, who seemed nervous to talk in front of such a crowd.
Ah, Frank Kennedy... Did she have to do everything by herself?
She gestured him many times, before he took the hint and stood up to talk.
She had filled him up so that when he talked to the other men, it felt to everyone as if indeed he had come up with the idea. But as Rhett's eyes met hers, she knew he had guessed it. And the glare in his eyes!
She felt as he wanted to jump on her and shake her.
Her hair bristled, and she held up her head. So what? She had won. Whatever he would throw at her, she would face it!
"Enough with these talks of wars..." John Wilkes said, smiling indulgently. "We are boring the ladies. Ashley? I do believe you would want to say something?"
Ashley nodded with his usual smile, though it seemed tainted with a bit of nervosity.
"Melanie, would you..."
"No!" She suddenly cried, distressed before he could even get to her. Her eyes went to Scarlett, as if to take some courage from her, then turned back and she shook her head vigorously. "I won't, I won't!"
Yet, opposition with such a large audience was too much for poor Melly. She fainted.
….
Young Melanie Hamilton's refusal to her cousin's proposal, and her fainting afterward had stirred quite a havoc, and one Rhett actually welcomed, for it provided him with entertainment as well as a means to escape all these wasteful discussions about glory and braveness conquering it all.
It provided also a moment alone with Scarlett as she left the scene discreetly, after Melanie was gotten by many to an adequate place to rest.
She knew he was behind, he knew that. Her head was slightly tilted, yet she did not dare to look back. She wandered a little with a hesitant step in the rose garden, pausing some time to sniff at the flower.
A rose with many thorns which he had seen bloom before his eyes, and helped sharpen the edges.
To his regrets, now.
"You've been here oftener," She remarked finally, stopping.
He smiled at her. A lopsided grin as he lit his cigar.
"Do you complain?"
"No."
He took a puff and stared at the smoke.
"It had been a surprise, to see that girl, Melanie Hamilton, refuse quite publicly when proposed."
"Had it?"
She idly caressed a petal. He chuckled.
"Now, what have you done?"
"Me? Nothing."
"Oh, really?" He arched his brow. "Just like you did nothing to Frank Kennedy?"
She straightened and raised her eyes to his, alarmed, and he had to prevent himself from smirking. There was something entirely pleasant at keeping her on her toes, for it was on these moments her braveness and sharpness shined the most, and the gears of her mind appeared clearly on that sweet face. Her brow wrinkled a little, and she gritted her teeth, that darling little chin raised up.
It was also a way to remind her he was no fool.
And then... oh, he had never known how much he loved her until he saw her trying to outwit him, never had he been so sure she was made for him. Oh, how he had wanted to throw her over his shoulders, and go with his prize!
She was not just a pretty face. She was sharp as much as she was charming, and what she heard, she took lessons from it when she saw interest in it. Yet, she was not to be underestimated.
Who else in the room could praise themselves they knew what lied below? He knew, and that was as much a blessing as a curse.
He had not been wrong with Belle about that. That little woman, that had grown up to his shoulders, had the potential of being as dangerous as he.
And perhaps, she already was.
"What are you doing?" Said he as she took the gun from his holster and looked at it thoughtfully. The muzzle teased the front of his shirt, making him almost shiver.
"Trying to see how it works," She tilted her head toward him, defiant as a vixen. "You told me you would whip the one that had hurt you. I better learn how to defend myself."
"It was but a missed scratch my dear, delusional little cat. Your claws shall have better luck next time," He said mischievously. "Though I have to warn you. I can drill a dime at fifty yards."
"Oh, so you never miss a shot, do you?" She looked at him with pursed lips. There were sparkles in her glaring eyes, he noted, delighted. "You're so conceited."
"Not that much."
She looked back, confused, the gun heavy in her hands. Gently, he gathered them with his own. She was cold and trembling, and when he raised the weapon toward him, she gasped, and he only smiled lightly, a crooked smile that brought her to her knees.
"Here," He said. "Like this."
He positioned himself behind her, his arms around her as he modified her posture. His hands went to her shoulders to make them square, lingered there for a second too long, then followed the lines of her arms softly to return to the shaking grip on the gun. She jumped and bristled, then relaxed in his hold.
Oh, so her body reacted to him as well, uh?
"Aren't you angry?"
"No," He was only amused, truth to be told. Oh, so she had tried to hurt him, then? Yet, he had escaped her ploy. She would see then that he would bear all of her vixenish ways, and still manage to hold the reins in their relationship. Whatever relationship it was. "He's not the only card I have in my sleeve, my poor darling girl. But I see you were. Though you were quite hasty in choosing your champion. Frank Kennedy, really?"
She bit her lip.
"I had not a lot of choices in the matter," She muttered begrudgingly.
His grin widened. "I guess so. But maybe your aim was more on hurting me than in securing the best price for the County."
"Frank Kennedy is one of the most important owners of lands in the County," She countered with a scowl.
"Yet, the most spineless one. He'd get licked easily," Rhett whispered, amused, before looking ahead."See that statue of Apollo? Don't you think he'd be better off without that too perfect nose?"
He leaned more, the air leaving his mouth making the losing strands of her chignon tremble. She shivered and held her breath, and the beast in him growled low in his guts, agitated.
"Shoot."
And she did.
He hooted.
"My, Scarlett, what a shot!" He exclaimed, cheerful. "Should I begin to fear?"
"Oh, Rhett, you're a rascal!"
She laughed freely, her eyes sparkling, and he so despairingly wanted to kiss her.
If that wasn't the most encouraging sight he ever saw, he'd be damned, he thought.
Yet, it made him all the more nervous, though he knew how to hide it with a smile and a bland expression.
"Scarlett, soon the horns of war will blow..."
She froze, and turned away. He did not quite know how to continue, for then it seemed a burden was added to her slight shoulders. Would that he could lift it for her!
He could, if she accepted.
If she accepted to marry you, and hide on a faraway island while you run the blockades? A sneaky voice hissed in his mind.
He winced. He was no fool to believe she would be happy with that. And yet, he was not to give up on what he planned. Not he! Not for her, not for anyone.
"Grand-Père wants me to go with him to France," She cut his musings, her back on him.
Oh, now that was quite a development!
His sharp mind went over the information with the relief of one that finally realized he did not have to tie the knot around his throat.
Yet, a little disappointed not to do it.
He dismissed it. He was free, after all. And she was too.
"I don't want to!" She cried. "He can't make me! Not for all the gifts in the world!"
He looked at her and realized... Yes, she was a girl still. And already she was changing her mind as she looked at him. She still needed him as a guide.
"If I go, would you come and visit me?" She said with a little voice suddenly.
He smiled softly but could not fool her further.
"Mayhap. Yet do not count on it. My business would take me more to our dear South and England, and France not really," He looked at her sad little face and let out a mischievous grin. "Though I do have some friends there I could maybe visit at least once, for old times' sake."
The long, tilted lashes fluttered in confusion, sending a shadow on the cheeks.
"What kind of friends?"
"Well, I suppose the same kinds you entertain today."
He laughed.
"Oh, you scoundrel!"
"Scarlett!" Someone called.
She jumped, and he was tempted to roar at that. He took on her disheveled hair, on the flushed cheeks. How desirable she was! He thought.
"Sh!" She urged, but she was too excited. "It's time I go with the others."
"Sleep well," He teased, grinning from ear to ear.
She left with a hearty laugh, and he looked at her as she went, lovely and swift on her feet. He stared a moment with a little smile, then went back inside in his own way.
He took refuge in the library, waiting for his host to come and lecture him as he thought he would. Well, he could raise his voice over his gentlemanly tones, Rhett thought. It would not change anything.
Still, he felt a begrudging respect for the man, despite his flaws. There was a goodness in him, though a tainted one.
Nothing that to stop him from getting a little nap, at least.
He laid on the leather sofa and closed his eyes. Yet, before he could fall into slumber, he heard the door open, followed by two distinctive footsteps.
"What is it, Scarlett? A secret?"
Rhett froze, alert.
Damn it. Was he about to witness a love scene? By God, not on his watch!
"A secret? Yes... I... love you."
The bullet was shot as he heard her, and he struggled to breathe. Of course. Yes, of course. Her beloved Ashley. That damn Ashley.
"Oh, Scarlett. You are quite loved already by everyone, and I..."
"You?"
"You can have your choice of men."
Not a good answer, weakling, Rhett thought, his fist clenching.
"You want me, and I want you, and all the more Melly doesn't want you! Isn't it enough?"
"Scarlett…" Came the pleading voice of the little gentleman. "Please, you have to understand!"
"I don't, I really don't!" She protested back. "Aren't we of the same mind? Have we not agreed on most things?"
He seemed to pause, his voice becoming intense when he finally continued.
"Yes, my dear, I know... You've been so good, listening to me. So soft, so sweet... For a moment I thought... I thought we would not be suited. I like things quiet, with a bit of a hazy glow... Yet, you understood. You understood, did you?" He seemed a bit unsure.
"I do! Of course, I do!"
He did not seem to have heard her, as he continued.
"And it would be the right thing by you, or else... Else, you might be the unfortunate Venus to one terrible Vulcain, nay, a beautiful, delightful Proserpine to one terrible Pluto... But..." And there, the voice lost its depth, and was almost shrill. "I am no Mars, Scarlett! Forgive me!"
Silence grew as Rhett tried to stifle one cruel laughter. The boy did well to be afraid of him.
And she seemed to understand that as well.
"Just say it: you're a coward that is afraid to love me!" She hissed, his fierce little cat. "You, talk about pretty things, and use big words, but when it came to reality, you're like a mouse that is afraid to leave its hole!"
"Now, Scarlett, I know it is not you to say such coarse things..."
"Go, go! Before I find other coarse words to scratch your ears!"
And it seemed the hapless chap did go, for Rhett heard the door close, and the furious stamping of Scarlett's mule shoes.
He was even sure of that when suddenly a projectile was thrown his way (or at least, on the couch's way), and exploded in tiny pieces.
"Now, Scarlett, that is enough!" He protested, raising from his hide. "Do you mean to start the war by yourself?"
She jumped and froze, and he almost laughed. She looked like one of these statues of the prudish virgin huntress being discovered naked by a lucky hunter.
He winced.
Oh. Wrong thought.
"Rhett!"
She gaped, then closed her mouth. It pursed as a frown marred her forehead, and her chin swayed a little, as if she was trying to contain her emotion, yet failed to do so.
"You were there all this time?" Her voice weakened as she uttered this, ending with a little shrill sound.
He looked at her and nodded, the bite of the remark he was about to make taken back in front of the distress of the one he loved. How powerless he felt, then! How weak! What could he do of his love, of his big hands that were begging to cup her face and erase the sorrow off her face?
"You can tell me you told me so…" She said, her head tilting away.
"I won't, Scarlett." He opened his arms to her, and she raced to it. She hid her face on his chest, and he placed a kiss on her hair, his nose lingering to take on her scent. "He does not deserve you… You deserve to be loved and cherished…"
"I know," She finally said, firmly. "And I will."
He took no heed of it. If only he could keep her in his arms! Couldn't she see she belonged there? She fitted so rightfully, just the right size and proportion, and her heart! Her heart, swift and nervous, beat almost near to his heavy one.
But it wasn't to be. He had to let her go.
"There, breathe..." He said softly. "You wouldn't want all these ninnies to see that you cried?"
She broke on a smile for him, forced the dimples in.
Those were bitter tears, he thought. Little girl's tears, more offended by a refusal than by a truly broken heart. This comforted him a little, until he saw the determination in her eyes.
She wasn't about to give up. She smiled at him one last time, and turned her head quickly as suddenly the hoots and cries of enthusiasm were raising.
The war had started.
She ran to the noise, leaving the room to join the agitation below.
Rhett waited a moment, then left it as well. His eyes sought her out and saw her with a boy that he recognized as none other than Charles Hamilton, the little lady's brother.
He looked at the scene questioningly, before thinking none of it. She must have asked a trifle, to ease her chagrin. It certainly looked like it.
Just like her to demand something when more pressing issues were at foot.
Bah! He would let her take what comfort she would want. He turned away.
And soon regretted it.
For what followed was this:
"If your offer still stands, I accept it," She said to Charles Hamilton.
He bowed, his eyes bright, too bright.
"I am your servant."
She leaned more toward the boy, and whispered something to him.
He stared for a moment at her, unsure, then nodded.
"I will." He said, very chivalrously. "I'll see to it."
…
By the evening, it was declared she was affianced to Charles Hamilton.
To Rhett, it felt like a slap, that she would consider such a boy for marrying, when he was there for the taking. He did not even think of the grandfather's offer, only of the reply she did not even offer to him. Staring at the bales of fresh picked cotton gently gathered in one of the storage rooms, he thought that at least, despite her scheming, he could still nag her that he had taken it right in front of her lovely pert nose. She could have had it all, he thought as he settled comfortably in one of them with his bottle in his hand.
Yet... She did not know that!
His eyes widened.
And here he was, drinking, when he should have done that in the first place!
Of course, he should have known she wasn't really pleased with her grandfather's offer. Her attitude was obvious now that he thought of it.
The poor girl did not know what was good for her. Going to France, when her loved ones were here was not one thing her short-sighted mind would consider. Pierre Robillard, most likely, had failed to render his offer attractive enough to dissipate the excitement of wars that alarmed her about the security of her den and herd.
Well, he thought, with a strange satisfaction. She had only him now. Only he would be able to protect her ad her family.
"You should stop drinking," Rang a soft voice. "It seems you do that a lot. It would be a shame to have your guards down."
Of course, she would think that.
"Oh, dear girl, I still have my wits with me. I'll drink as much as would please me. I know how to hold my liquor."
"Do you?" She sniffed a little. "You smell of it."
He snorted. "A good scent, most certainly. I do not see you swoon."
"You could never make me swoon."
His eyes lingered on her form while trying to conceal his hunger.
"Oh, never say never, Scarlett. One never knows what could happen."
"And what could happen?"
They stared at each other, waiting for the other to continue. The tension between them simmered beneath a fragile lid, they both knew that individually. One day the lid might be blown away, and then what? Would the boiling passion meet a cold wall?
None were truly ready for that. And yet, the silence lingered, hot and heady, urging them to lay down their cards. She swayed a little, and he saw the hint of one delicate foot, its plant red from the clay, clashing with the delicate cream of her skin. He wanted to kiss that foot, to feel it on his hands to warm it and then...
But no. She would have to give in first. He sized her up, these sparkling eyes over one pert little nose, and that defiant little chin.
"You don't have to marry him." He began.
She looked away, as if irritated.
"If I can't have the one I love, then what's the point? Every woman needs security. He can give me that, and I know he will cherish me."
"What if you married me?" He said nonchalantly.
Her eyes widened, cat eyes, beloved eyes. She paled, then flushed, and for a moment, he thought he saw something here. A softness in her face he had seen for another, and it troubled him, because then he thought...
But no, it was quite wrong. The fool, was she thinking of that little gentleman? He almost groaned in frustration.
She shook her head.
"Rhett, you're not a marrying man. I don't want to marry you…" Not like that, she thought.
Though the idea was tempting, she knew he was not the kind of man that would suddenly realize after a time married to her that he was attracted to her, or even furiously in love with her. He would feel trapped, for men like him never stayed in one place, never stayed with the same people. He told it so himself, so many times, and the way he expressed his disgust at marriage...
He would resent her, hate her even, especially in a time of war such as the one that was prepared. A time when he wouldn't want to have her around.
Oh, how could she bear the thought of him hating her?
Yet, already, the anger was growing in him as he was tempted to raise from the bale and shake her.
"So you prefer to marry one you don't love, and who will never understand you, than one who understands and likes you?"
"Don't you see it will hurt me more?" She pleaded, her fingers gripping each end of her shawl. "Oh, are you so cruel as to suggest it? To I who adores you since I am a child? To marry you when I know you can't give me what I want?"
"You don't know what you want!" He scowled. "Oh, you silly girl…You don't know what love is, and you think there can't be marriage without it. You play with it, you pretend…"
"Then show me."
Her voice cut his scolding, clear and firm, and it surprised him. He raised his head, and she stared back, serene and with a determination that stole his breath away.
She approached him softly, letting go of the shawl that fell pitifully on the clay, and he saw her clearer as she sat in front of him, between his outstretched legs. Her straight hair tumbled down her slightly covered shoulders, a lovely black river he longed to plunged his nose into. The moonlight coming from the window gave it a silvery glow, and with such a light, she seemed almost ethereal, and less covered than she was. The cotton nightgown was thin and a bit transparent with such light. His mouth dried.
And her mouth... Crimson and velvety, and just at reach for kisses.
"Scarlett…"
He was losing control, he knew that. Suddenly, the tables were turning, and he was there, powerless to stop them. Unwilling to stop them.
"Please, Rhett…" She pleaded, her voice husky with want as she put a little hand on his knee. "Just love me. Just for the night. I don't ask for you to marry me. You don't have to ask me that... I know you have loved many women... Love me! I want to know about it… I want to do it with someone I care for!"
She put her white little hands on his chest, and it burned high and low, and when she gripped his shirt with her claws, he was hooked to the desire in her darkened eyes, the most precious emeralds he had ever seen, and that shined for him, just for him.
"Love me!"
For one second, he looked at her, and knew that if he kissed her there was no turning back. If he kissed her, he would be hers entirely, and his independance of mind would be jeopardized forever. His life would be irremediately bound to her. He would not be only Rhett Butler. He would be her man. He would be at her mercy.
Some part of him reeled at the idea, screamed at him to run. Yet, it was too late. Far too late. He could not fool himself further.
Her lips grazed his lips, and suddenly everything exploded and reeled. It was like a shot through the heart, and he would bleed to death if she only stopped! He would drown if she would stop!
By God, he wouldn't let her! And yet he should!
No! Not for dear life! Frantically, his hands pushed, then gripped her shoulders, unwilling to let her go. Against his chest, he could feel her breasts, the curve of her belly leaning toward his, almost as if they were skin to skin, and he damned the thin nightgown that covered her, for blast, it wasn't nearly enough.
He groaned and she whimpered, oh the tender sound! Opening her lips further like the gates of Paradise, so that he could explore further. His arms went around her with the strength of passion, that hungry exotic snake that wanted to swallow it all, and she bent to him like its victim, willingly, her little hands sliding delightfully from his chest to his hair, and gripping hard and fierce. Sweet, how sweet... And when he teased her tongue, she danced with him, and the heat grew, grew, grew...
No one existed but her. No one but that fire between them that erased all limits between bodies and souls, between human and animal. She was everything, and that independence of mind he had prided himself for was but an illusion. Every step away from her had led him even closer, and now he was there, and her body leaned toward him.
Her body, yes. But what of her soul? Her heart?
He did not dare to open his eyes, fearing that it was just a dream, fearing to see the moment she would realize her mistake.
"Scarlett..." He whispered weakly, panting, gathering his breath as he tried to regain control. Yet, he felt cold, so cold... She was fire, and he wanted her burn, he wanted her warmth... He leaned in, and her sweet, short breath invited him to more kisses. The tip of her nose teased his cheek, begging him to continue as she let out a little whine, almost a meow.
Oh, why did she have to torture him so? Why did it have to feel so good, so right?
He tried to remember the girl, so small in his arms, so immature and affectionate, a girl he had wanted to see as a little sister, and succeeded quite prettily in doing so. For a short time. Yet all he could feel was the woman that he loved, her green eyes on him as if he were the only man in the world, and she craved for him as much as he did. And her lips, oh her lips! They were so soft, so tender, and luring him in every time he attempted to draw back.
"It is so dark…" She whispered, her eyes blazing in the night. "I can be any woman."
How could she even say such a foolish thing?
"You're not…."
She shook her head. Her arms went around his neck, her body pushing against his, sliding perfectly along his frame to give him better access to the lips.
"Shh… Love me…" The siren enjoined him again.
Siren, vixen, pixie, fairy... In his mind, all limits seemed to blur. It almost clicked, then blurred again as skin touched skin.
Yet, it was her soul he wanted to touch!
She wanted him to love her…
And he did. By God, he did.
And she did. With all her heart, wanting to reach his.
Under their weight, the bale sank, and the cotton flew like a snowstorm.
It was a folly, both hearts beating for one another in an ocean of fluff, completely unaware they already were one.
