Hello everyone, and thank you for your enormous patience with me! I've been turning this chapter around on and on, never satisfied, and been running wild with the last reports to write at work, and now I fear it became quite like the meme "Started making it. Had a breakdown. Bon appetit!"

I just hope there aren't too many mistakes.

One little chapter will be posted during the holiday, because you deserve it, and I promise it will be light-hearted. It's Christmas' magic, after all!

Good reading, love you all!

PS: to the one who will be able to list the references on this text, I will divulge one spoiler. That's the game for the end of the year ;)

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Melly was getting more and more restless by the day, ever since the moment she received that damned letter. Many times had it been unfolded, almost torn, each word examined and praised, each stroke of the pen taken delight of, gushed over as if it was the marvel of the century.

Why, she, Scarlett, hadn't been that foolish over Rhett's writing!

Though, to be honest, he had seldom wrote her anything. It had been her mostly, and God knew how the task by itself had been painful to her, with all the expectations it brought.

Three days, it had been. Three painful days during which Melly's delicate body could not contain the overwhelming excitement of first love, and had to impose it, scream it into Scarlett's ears, take its own place on her bed because the silly goose couldn't bear the loneliness of hers. So much that many a time Scarlett had to check her tongue not to say that said Edward was no angel, and was like any man, driven in and out by interest, ready to fire yet not to settle.

As for the matter of the loneliness in bed, Scarlett had born it quite easily, thank you. And Wade too, by extent, though she now suspected the sneaky child wasn't as missing the warmth of her skin by daytime as much as she had wanted him. Only by nighttime, when no one else was looking, could he not bear anything less than skin-to-skin contact. But she could not be praised for that.

By daytime, he could very well be alone, and not miss her at all! No, in fact, his latest fascination was more of the mischief-making kind, that of disturbing the peace of Pittypat Hamilton while she was trying to knit, the poor dear unable to scold at such a sweet thing as a baby, though she had to watch him with tears in her eyes destroy very gleefully the threads she had been carefully knitting for days. Nevertheless, the silly lady dotted on the boy, and swore he looked very much like Charles, so sweet and serious. She would have let him destroy everything nice she owned!

Well, as long as he did not bother hers.

Though Scarlett very much would have preferred him to be more loving.

He was, in a way. A momentary and imperious need for touch and to be held by no one but hers, especially when no one was looking. Yet, it was when she was trying to be so motherly soothing, and kind that he thwarted her plan. He only seemed to smile and laugh when, annoyed by his antics, she indulged in a good session of sticking out of the tongue. Infuriating!

Very, very cheeky creature.

Yet, hers. All hers. With him, she felt that some part of her was rebelling, wanting to be the child she had been, to play with him and do mischief, when she knew she couldn't. She had to be an adult, she had to be responsible. It wasn't seemly, to do so, and she was all grown up now!

No, certainly, she wasn't to do so. No lady would do so.

Not that she cared very much about that!

She sighed and pondered the question for a moment.

In fact, no one was there to tell her that when others were there, she tried too hard, and her posture was too rigid, her gestures too brusque in public, and eyes more focused on the attempt of seeming kind rather than on the child by himself. Only Mammy perhaps could have done so. Yet, Mammy wasn't there, and Scarlett was feeling quite neatly the loss of her. Loss of home, of Pa, of all the things that had made her life. And when she looked at Wade, she swore if Pa had only looked at him once, most certainly he wouldn't have seemed so lost and helpless!

But to return to Melly. Melly who needed her, and loved her.

Well, that was at least one that did.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror hung on the wall, and it failed to appease her. She felt puffy and dull, and tired. Melly put her chin on her shoulder, looking back.

"You are so very charming..." She sighed. "I wish I was more like you. See, I'm so plain and shy, and I try my best, but... it's far from enough." She gathered her immaculate white gown around her, her hands on her knees like a child. "I don't know what you see in me. Nor what Edward sees, for he has always such sweet things to say. And I'm afraid. So very afraid that he might one day find out that I'm not as he imagines me to be."

Scarlett tilted her head slightly, her brow arching in dismay.

"Melly, you're being foolish!"

"Not really," she said simply. "Brown eyes and brown hair, not even a curve to be seen... Gentlemen generally don't look at me twice."

"Then, they are the foolish ones!" Scarlett scolded, raising in protest and it left the poor girl unbalanced. "Melly, I'm surprised of you for giving it much thought!"

Melly's brown eyes widened in surprise at such reaction, and she blinked once as Scarlett swayed stubbornly back and forth, her arms crossed as she was deliberating whether to say what she thought or not. There was a dimple between her brows as she pondered it, until she allowed it.

"Well, if you force me to say it," She said very reluctantly. "You've got a natural white skin that you didn't work for. I'd scratch it if you weren't my friend. Warm eyes, that are so loving it could almost make me cry! A sweet nature that shows on your face, when I must control my expressions all the time!"

Scarlett stopped abruptly and stared at herself once again in the mirror, struck with a very strange thought. For once, she hated the hard sharpness of her eyes, which made her think as if she was staring at a snake.

Yes, what she had was carefully studied and worked for to give an image of sweetness and prettiness. Yet, it wasn't her. The true her would certainly make the others blush and retract in horror. The true her yearned for things she couldn't have, craved them so she was ready to do anything for that. It was a green monster, a monster of envy and ruthlessness. She saw it in her eyes, in the paleness of her cheeks, and the pursing of her mouth.

"No, indeed, I am the ugly one," she whispered.

Melly chuckled.

"Oh, dear Scarlett, don't tease me so! You who had so many beaus in so many counties!"

Scarlett blinked and pursed her lip in dismay.

"The County boys? Oh, silly Melly, the County boys would flutter and flirt with everything that moves."

"And what about those who came specially from Charleston and Savannah for you?" Melly laughed. "I remember that Frenchman... Roman, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes in impatience.

"Romain. But that was mostly Grand-Père's doing."

Swiftly, her eyes deeply concentrated, Melly jumped from the bed, her feet carrying her to her sash, where she took a little carnet from it, and scrambled through the page, her brow furrowing, until it cleared in recognition.

"Oh, yes... That is his name."

Scarlett stared, bewildered.

"You've kept all their names in a book?"

Melly flustered, not daring to look up. "Well, I... You are my treasured friend. I thought... That maybe I could think of your victories as a little bit my owns, to live through you and raise my head in pride, because you are so charming, and yet you're with me..."

"You're too sweet for your own good," Scarlett groaned, falling back into the bed in dismay. "That's why your Edward says sweet things to you."

She won't tell her about Hetty. No, she would not in any case. It wasn't her secret to share, and Melly seemed so happy it would have been like taking a gift from a child on a Christmas day. She was not that cruel. Randa was outraged because it was her sister, yet men were all the same when it came to their desires, Scarlett knew it. Even the ones that behaved the most gentlemanly had their stains. John Wilkes was the proof of it.

"Let's see... Oh, there are so many that had come for you, even outside the County!" Silly Melly continued, pointing at each line with childish enthusiasm. "Alexandre Collins."

"Couldn't see anything past his big nose."

"Mr. Smalls."

"The name explains all of his nature."

"David Sennels."

"Too close to his sister."

"I was close to Charles!"

"Yes, darling, you were. But not that close."

For a moment, Melly stared, then shrugged. It was no use to continue that way. Far more amusing was the idea of teasing Scarlett with her beaus rather than actually digging into their personal lives.

"And then, there was Lawrence Aiken..."

Scarlett went still, her heart on a break. Suddenly, it wasn't that funny.

"Rhett. That was his doing."

"Oh..." Melly fidgeted nervously. "Ian Boone..."

"Rhett."

"Patrick Oltown..."

All these names came back to her suddenly, when she thought she had dismissed them as soon as she had guessed who was behind their coming. Now, it felt as if she had kept their names unknowingly with the strength of grudge, and these names alone were food for the feeling which grew as soon as she allowed herself to feel it.

"Rhett's. And Daniel Waring, William Boykins, Jonathan Haus, Ross Darkins... All dissipated boys from great families, that Rhett would find and send. I could figure them out in minutes, and many times, I've shown them the door," She snapped harshly. "I have my own record, Melly. And it doesn't look as good as yours."

Melly lowered her head in shame. She put the carnet back swiftly and attempted a few steps of approach.

"I'm sorry."

Another step.

"You don't have to be."

Lying beside her, she put her head softly on Scarlett, as if afraid to be rebuked. But as she wasn't, she laid with more confidence, and her eyes shone brightly with bliss.

"Well, they may have been sent to you. But they stayed for you, I'm sure."

"If you think so, Melly." Scarlett sighed, happy to dismiss the unhappy thoughts. She allowed herself a satisfied grin in front of Melanie's persistence. "They were persistent, though."

Melly breathed out.

"See, that's proof I'm right."

Scarlett chuckled.

"I can't be anything but good to you, can I?"

"No. Because you're my dearest friend."

Melly let out a sneaky smile.

"And maybe all these names... Maybe it was for Mr. Butler to hide his own..."

A corner of the lips lifted unwillingly, yet the voice was almost sad. Scarlett got up and walked to the sill, resting her shoulder on the wall.

"Melly, please, don't include Rhett in your romantic scheming. He would never be caught in such things, and it will only give me a headache."

For a moment, she looked by the window, to the very busy streets on that beautiful morning, the young ones laughing and flirting, working and playing, and she was filled with the dullness of her life, unable to come home and unable to settle completely. A need for activity and parties was left unfulfilled, her energy wasted in pieces until it stayed stuck in aching pain. Oh, to wave and be recognized! To be saved from confinement! Her hand raised to the window, touching the glass, and there she saw a familiar smile that called for her own. She felt her heart skip as she answered it.

Yet, it froze on her chest as she realized fully it was Rhett that was waving back at her, and he was about to knock at the door. Suddenly, it came by hot and cold waves over her body as her mind ran wild.

Wade! He was going to see Wade!

"Scarlett? What is it, my dear?"

Melly got up herself and looked. Her brow furrowed as she let out a dismayed: 'I didn't say so soon...'

So soon?

The realization came over Scarlett as she stared at Melly, sweet Melly whose face couldn't hide her thoughts, and what she saw wasn't good. Not good at all. Brown eyes widened as she turned toward her, and arms reached out.

"Oh, Scarlett, I didn't mean to..."

Oh, the traitress! She was the one that had allowed the wolf in! Not only allowed, but invited!

And Wade... Oh, Wade! Wade was with Pittypat, downstairs!

She shook out any attempt and glared.

"No, don't. You've done enough!"

Swiftly, she left the room and let the door slam behind her, and her feet dragged her mindlessly toward the stairs. Yet, on the way, she bumped into Cheyenne, and on the floor fell a book, its hardback bouncing lightly, before falling back with the cover being lifted and showing the first page with the scripted words 'My Bondage and my Freedom'.

Scarlett blinked and faced the girl, but she was avoiding her eyes.

Downstairs, she heard Pittypat's timid voice raising, and she kept going. She had no time to question the whereabouts of Cheyenne, nor the meaning of her suddenly wide eyes as finally they turned to her. That meant nothing at all to her.

"Miss, you're..."

She turned and descended the stairs quickly, hoping to prevent a disaster.

But the disaster was already there, in the shape of one Rhett Butler leaning over Wade as the boy was sat beside Aunt Pitty. The hapless woman was bowing her head over her knitting, a fan on her knees as she fiddled with the end of her silky red shawl, the only extravagance she had allowed herself to wear.

"Well, well, well..." She heard Rhett's voice drawling maliciously. "Now whose baby is it, I wonder?"

Her heart gripped most achingly, for here, in front of her, father and son were examining one another with the same searching look, and she wanted to cry from the striking resemblance between them. Swiftly, her feet carried her to the sofa with the numbing echo of her raging pulse, and she took Wade from Aunt Pitty's arms, gathering him possessively against her. The babe protested a little, before scratching viciously the fabric of her gown, but she let him. He wasn't the enemy here, and she was already succeeding at putting some distance between them and diverting the attention to herself.

Rhett's brow lifted, his eyes widening for a moment, before grinning.

"Oh my America." He smirked at his own reference, most certainly a poem quite scandalous that had amused him greatly. For a moment, she cursed herself at being so curious over it, her cheeks heating up as if she were standing too close to the fire.

"Oh!" Aunt Pittypat hiccuped."Scarlett! You're in your shimmy!"

It took Scarlett Aunt Pitty's cry and posture of shock, her little hand raising to her mouth, to finally realize how improper she was, when she had been on the merge of pointing out the impropriety of his conduct. By then, it was too late, and she prevented herself from crying in dismay, but could not stop the red mortification to settle on her face.

"I have my own shawl, Aunt Pitty," She grumbled. "It's alright."

She gathered the helms of the fabric around her body, while trying to hold on to Wade, but it was no use. Rhett's eyes had already flared over her, leaving their mark on her skin.

"A true lioness, protecting her cub. But what for, I wonder?"

Her eyes wandered nervously around as she tried to seek a tolerable issue to this very perilous situation, and for a moment came the foolish, foolish hope that maybe he wouldn't see it, maybe if she was cunning enough...

"It's..."

"Now, don't be foolish, my dear," He cut her swiftly, a devilish grin on his face, and eyes searching, but oh, why did they have to be that insistent? "I know it's yours. Would have been blind not to, with that little plumpness you developed."

For a moment, she was almost tempted to rush to the mirror in horror and see how it was. Yet, one glance toward it was enough for Rhett to guess the intent, and his grin boiled her blood. She reddened and swelled angrily.

"You dare!"

"I dare say it's lovely, and gentlemen wouldn't complain about that aspect, my dear, au contraire." His eyes raked over her body, and she prevented herself to shiver. "Miss Pitty, what think you of the attractivity of plumpness? I do believe, being the clear example of it, many must have said it to you."

Aunt Pitty hiccupped in shock at such a delicate subject and finally decided herself to take her fan and use it most vigorously.

"Captain Butler, I..." She struggled. "Oh, dear... I feel faint!"

"Aunt Pitty… Scarlett started with a surprisingly shrill voice. She cleared her voice. "Aunt Pitty, dear, could you go help Melly with the finding of her shawl? And please, take Wade. He's sleepy."

"Oh, but, but...!" The unlucky lady fanned herself harder. "Oh, dear... And with Uncle Peter at the market! Where's my vinaigrette?"

"With Melly, Aunt Pitty!"

Pittypat's head quickly turned up, like a mouse as it smelled nervously around for the cat, and her little mouth trembled as she let go of her wool and needles to take the boy.

"Oh dear, yes! Melly! I'm coming to you, sweetheart!"

"And don't drop..." Scarlett clenched her fist, but Wade was already protesting at the indignity of being transferred to that nervous little fool, that had taken him in her arms while shaking with the strength of emotion. From there, she could see her son batting his little fists on the spinster's shoulders, and rightly so! Her brows furrowed.

Rhett chuckled.

"Well... I suppose that's quite the exit."

Nails dug on the flesh.

"You shouldn't be there," She hissed.

He leaned over her, too close, and only smiled with that crooked smile of his, his eyes dancing merrily at his own joke. She lowered her head and crossed her arms, drawing the curves carved on the parquet with her toe.

"It's not fitting, you being here like that. Our reputation..."

"Now, you're talking like your Mammy. Where is your bravery, my dear? With enough courage, you can do without. In fact, with our little show at the Bazaar, I expect you probably will have to, already. "

"If you came to be horrible..."

Swiftly, he put his hand, his big warm hand, on her elbow, and she couldn't just turn away as she intended to. Her body was but inches from his, yet she burned all the same.

"Now, Scarlett…" He asked softly. "I need to know. Is he...?"

"He is Charles' son," She quickly answered, shaking his hold on her to put some distance between them. Oh, she needed to think! "He is the one that claimed him."

He lifted her head a little with her chin between thumb and index, in his eyes glinting a dangerous light that made her shiver. Restrained wrath that unveiled something else, something she could not quite name, did not dare to.

"A dead boy…"

She whirled away, but not too far, her head shaking as she felt like a little girl again, whose mischief had been discovered and was waiting for punishment, for this was what he wanted her to feel. Her fingers tensed over the rosewood table as she counted the stings of the clock hands. It prickled on her skin, her back so hot under his scrutiny.

There was also something very liberating, about him knowing, and she knew it was what she truly thought. She had carried that secret so long, a secret she hadn't meant to be thus, and yet had become by omission. There was that tension being lifted from her shoulders, and she felt the relief of it.

But that did not mean she could forget. For once the burden was laid, the resentment raised up and begged to be let out too.

"Yet, that knew of Wade, and wanted to be there."

"Did he know it wasn't his son?"

"He did." There was no need to deny it now. "But see, he was an honorable man. He wanted to do the right thing for me."

Unlike another, was implied.

This muted him. His fists clenched in anger, remembering that infamous spring, and the day he almost took her away from all of this. He could have changed it, whether she wanted it or not. He would have dragged her to the altar, had he known. By her luscious straight black hair, yes, a good grip on the silk of that hair, and that delicious body struggling behind him, until he could catch her in his arms and show her who was the Master…

By God, she was making a caveman out of him!

But it was no use. It hadn't happened, and here they were.

She did see him falter. But the content of his thoughts was obscure to her, and the light of his eyes queer and ominous.

"If only you had told me, " he said quietly.

She turned back and huffed.

"And where could I have sent anything, pray tell? In the middle of the ocean?" She quipped, indignant, before turning back. He wanted to make her feel guilty and she was playing to his tune! "It's... no use talking about this..."

His firm hands caught the delicate bones of her shoulders, and their grasp made the junctures white as snow as she was made to face him and look, look at these hungry eyes that threatened to swallow her whole if she did not take care.

"I think we should indeed, for it is quite an odd matter, the one between us. One night you come to me and ask me to make love to you..."

"Hush!" She struggled feebly against him. "You're so vulgar and keep repeating yourself, it doesn't make sense..."

"... the next time, you go around and marry the first boy that comes your way. And now, you have my baby... I've known already about the inconsistencies of women, but here it's taken to a new level."

Her eyes flared and she went still.

"You're unbearable. Abject, disgusting..."

"Oh, certainly not disgusting, darling, if you came to me and had my baby!"

"Yes, yes, you are!" She insisted, because he was reeling her in, and she couldn't help it. "Leaving me all alone on the cotton..."

"Oh, so you wondered where I was?"

"... where anyone could have entered and taken advantage of me..."

"Now, do be serious, Scarlett. This is Tara. The place is no danger to you, and you're no woman to be taken advantage of. In fact, I should say you have taken great advantage of me..."

"You dare..."

He held his hands as if in surrender, his white teeth glaring at her with that self-mockery that rebuked her.

"Not that I complain."

"You miserable...!"

"I'm quite miserable indeed."

"Oh, don't give me an act of self-pity," She huffed, hands firmly set on her hips, and her shawl slipped but for a little. "You don't believe in it yourself. You don't even care."

He blanched.

"Care?"

Reddened, and for a moment she thought he was going to pounce on her, and she gathered the shawl around her, eyeing him suspiciously. Yet, the color faded to gray, and she faltered.

This time, it was his turn to escape her eyes, and she saw him rub a heavy hand on his forehead.

The powerlessness of such a gesture could break her heart, if she had still a heart to be broken by him. But no, not anymore. She would prevent herself to!

"This is not who you are." He sighed heavily. "The Scarlett I know would not deceive me like this…"

Her brow wrinkled.

"The Scarlett you know...?" She repeated stupidly. It wrinkled increasingly, until she felt she could not hold it. Red raised and raised, and her eyes flashed green. "Don't even dare to tell me about the Scarlett you know, Rhett Butler, you want nothing of it! You've seen it, but when you were offered it, you just took what you wanted, went away and never returned!"

"How in hell did it happen like that?" He protested. "When was I offered it, tell me?! When you charmed every buck because you wanted some attention? When you told me to love you like I would any woman, as if I was any man? When you married a boy because you could not have him? You won't make me a substitute of Ashley Wilkes! I will not be in his shadow, Scarlett!"

"Ashley, Ashley, always Ashley!" She cried in frustration, and her hands raised eloquently. "What is it with you and Ashley? You always brought him up! It's like you're in love with him!"

"By God, in...!" He swore. "I'd rather wish that poor excuse of a gentleman never was mentioned, but given your little infatuation with him..."

Now, that was too much to bear!

"Don't act as if you hadn't understood! I've charmed every buck because I wanted your attention! You never were in his shadow, he was! I married this boy because I couldn't have you, not him! Little infatuation? For him? You'd have me laugh!"

There, something shifted in the air, and she felt the need to retreat and flee. She had said too much, so much more than she had wanted to divulge. Oh, what need did she have of telling it to him? Why had the words to fall from her mouth in such a flood?

In front of her, he stood, frozen, but his face she did not dare to look. He knew it, he must have known it! It was so obvious and clear!

"… What?"

"Oh, how cruel you were to ask me to marry you, when I knew, you didn't mean to! When I knew if I accepted, you'd hate me for that, that this would be a sham and you wouldn't be there!"

"Wait... Wait... So that I can understand... you chose another sham?"

"One that wouldn't hurt me when you'd go!" She cried. "But you did... You did hurt me! And... when I wanted to call off the wedding, when I discovered about Wade, he was there, and you were not… And he said… he said… no matter what, he would raise the baby… He would not ask for a heart that I've already given…" She lowered her head, clutching her fists.

"Scarlett! You certainly can't mean…"

It burst from her lips, a shot in the air as every emotion was boiling to the surface, all the love, the anger, the jealousy, the envy... But what could he know about that? What could any man know? They could declaim poems, but it was the women who got it and dreamed about it. Like Melly who was sighing over her own unfaithful rascal, a man that had left another with a baby...

A man like Rhett.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways… " she sneered with biting irony. Her fists clenched until the junctures turned white. "How many ways, yes, how many? So many times, I've told you, but you've always dismissed it, taking me for the foolish girl that raised her arms for you to comfort her! The Scarlett you know... Well, the Scarlett you know hung on every one of your words, hoping there might be some love left in it! The Scarlett you know would have given up on every scheme she had, if only you would have looked at her with loving eyes! The Scarlett you know could not help but believe you when you said you would come back to her! And the Scarlett you know died a little each day each time she saw you flirting with women and sending beaus her way, as if you did not care who she was with!"

She gulped, gathering her wits and strength, and squared her shoulders.

"You've starved the Scarlett you knew, until she was even happy to receive your crumbs. But even these crumbs could not feed her. She died for one night with you, and here I am," She was steel, she had to be. Hard and unshakable. "I let you ruin me once. I won't let you do so again. I will not be a doll to you again, a peasant girl you'll try to turn into a lady for your own profit! Now, get out. I don't want to see your face ever again."

"What?"

Oh, stupid, stupid, why did he have to repeat it? How could only one word from him, and the tone it was uttered, could lead to such thing? Was it another twisted way of his to make her doubt of herself, of what she knew? It crept in her mind, in her head, with that painful hope that unsettled her ground, breaking it brick by brick.

She shook her head, willing the tears not to leave her eyes, so that at least she could appear strong in front of him. Steel... Oh, why should steel melt so easily?

"I know, I know! Did you think I didn't know? I was… I was but thirteen, and I wanted to see you. And then I find you… With that woman! The way you talked about me… About love… A monster, she called me! A monster!"

He looked at her with bewildered eyes, his frame leaning on the edge of the fireplace, turned toward it, his face toward the flames, and for a moment, she thought she had finally left her mark on him, and surprised him as he never had been surprised. Why, it looked almost as if he was going to cry, and rightly so, for all the tears she had spent on him! It was only fair! To be able to drink from his tears, to catch them with her lips until she felt the satisfaction that she did catch him!

Yet, the twisted triumph of it was short-lived as she realized the nature of his shaking, and she cried in dismay:

"And now you're laughing!"

He raised his trembling hand to her in his hilarity, the other fist hitting the edge.

"Wait a moment, my darling, soon, you'll be laughing with me…"

She stamped her feet. No, she would not wait! She had waited enough!

"I shall not wait. I've done enough waiting. Now it's over," she said, the hotness of her anger turning into ice. She would give cruelty for cruelty, because it seemed it was the only way to deal with him and be taken seriously. "What could you possibly tell me that I should laugh at?"

She stared at him, and something came to mind, something terrible as hope could be, and she failed to keep her voice steady and light, as she wanted it to be.

"I'd only laugh if you said you were in love with me! It would be like Melly's silly books, where you did not want me when you could have, and when you can't, suddenly you're all fierce and loud! That would be quite the preposterous thing! Indeed, quite laughable now that I don't care a whit about it!"

Her heart thudded as she swore, she would not believe it if he did say the words.

He looked at her, sobered, and she felt irritated at not seeing through his mask as it seems to blend so completely with his face. It was in these moments she felt she could never reach him, and that he would always be the one to laugh at her.

Her nails dug on her flesh as she gritted her teeth.

"That would be quite the joke, indeed," He quipped, and his eyes twinkled maliciously.

"Oh, yes, quite a joke!" It hurt to talk as it raised high and she could not control it. "I think I can understand it quite enough. Despite my ignorance. And my recklessness. Now, don't get any closer!"

She held her hand in defense, her heart throbbing at the nearness. She took a step back, keeping him in sight with the wariness of a cornered animal.

"Afraid, my pet? And right, you should be," He continued going, too confident, too nonchalant. Too much. "That was a dirty trick you've played me. I'm not sure I forgive you for that."

He aimed for the heart, she knew that, but it still stung. However, she had her defense ready. Her brow arched.

"Well, I'm quite sure I don't ask for it."

Why don't you go? What is there more to say?

Oh, couldn't he just let her lick her wounds in peace? Why did he have to rub it again?

His eyes darkened, a bottomless pit that threatened to make her fall again.

"You really are afraid of my coming too near... Afraid of what? Of me? Or of you?"

"Me, afraid?" Her voice cracked. "You're so conceited!"

His eyes sparkled.

"You really loved me..." He said in almost wonder.

She shook her head vigorously.

"Loved! Yes! As in the past! Not anymore!"

He snorted, and the dark triumph in his stride was so overpowering that she felt the sting of it on her womb.

"What does it matter, the past, the present? If you don't, you'll love me again. I'll have you, I know. If I insist enough, I know I will…"

She was losing it as the tables turned on her, and she tried to find her escape. She felt like a cornered prey, and he was striding very dangerously towards her, so much that her nerves became numb with the feeling of his nearness, and she was entranced by his manly scent, which tied her insides to knots.

Yet, she had to stand her ground. She had to! Because she knew if she did not, he would have her, and she would be happy for a time. But when he'd get bored and want to go, she'd be crushed to no return.

"Oh, it's a great thing, a man's pride, when one says he can't have what he has taken for granted! Now you're thinking it's a game! As if I were a girl you could play with!"

His body straightened, and for a moment, she almost felt the pressure of his on her though it was most clear to her they were certainly not touching.

"Foolish, foolish," He groaned and his eyes narrowed. "Is that a dare?"

From upstairs, she heard Wade cry, and it gave her strength. She crossed her arms. If the father was driving her mad, the son most certainly made her come back to herself, to the reality, and she anchored herself in it as a tree whose roots were searching to dig deeper through the soil, to keep their earthy grip on life.

There, she knew where to hit, and it brought new light to her eyes.

She lifted her head.

"Only you would think of it as a game!" She hissed warningly. "Tis no game, Rhett Butler! It's a declaration of war!"

"Fine, then. Have it your way. But you'll soon wave your white flags at me. Before God, I'll play guitar under your window and sing at the top of my voice if need be! But I doubt that'd be necessary. You'll bend sooner than you think!"

"How so?"

He grinned at her.

"You already know you are in the wrong."

"Oh, I'm quite in the right, indeed. And you're not fool enough not to see that."

"How so?"

She stood her ground.

"You talk of reputations being nothing but a burden. But for a mother, it's the reputation that will settle it all for her child. The way he will be accepted by the others, the school he will have, the position in society he will take. I am the guardian of his well-being, and I can't just forget it because you decided so."

"Surprisingly maternal of you."

"Only logical, as you would have me," She retorted, piqued. "It is you who shaped me, after all. Aren't you proud of your work? … It doesn't seem like you do. You wish to persuade me to listen to you, and you insult me. For the last time, get out. Hit the road, do whatever you want, but get out."

"Oh, don't put on high airs on me, Scarlett."

"It's not putting on high airs than to demand respect."

"For that, you would have to earn it. I'm not quite sure I'd be tempted to give it with what you pulled off."

"And you fail to realize you lost mine years ago," She retorted. "Listen to your own advice and go."

He stayed still, eyeing her with that mocking, mocking little air he had, and she couldn't bear the joke.

"Go!"

For a moment, it was as if he hadn't heard her, for his gaze was thoughtful, almost far away. Nothing but the raised brows, knitted together in what seemed a deep puzzlement.

He straightened his waistcoat, not looking at her, the fingers deftly gathering the elms of his mantle, pushing buttons through holes, and she watched them come whole through it, with a soft noise of fabric as she tried to regain her breath, her chest heaving achingly with the torturous thought of stopping him. She held on to the stinging pain of her nails on her palms, but it did not ease the tension of each long finger.

He looked quickly down to her, eyes flickering over her form, and she stood still, proud that she was not even shaking. A corner of his lips lifted.

"I'll go. For now. But I'll come back."

"No, you won't!" She could not help but shout as the door was closed on him.

She stood breathless for a minute, her chest red with the effort.

She could not fool herself. He had gone, and she had won a battle. But certainly not the war. He would come back and lay siege, that, she was sure.

But she would hold her own. She knew she would.

With Rhett, her will to fight had come back, and she felt the hot rushing of blood like a refreshing wave.

She would prevail.

She squared her shoulders and climbed up the stairs, and her step was calm and firm. She had regained herself as the secret was out, and now she had nothing to hide.

As she opened the door, she saw Melly turn wide, pleading eyes towards her, begging her for forgiveness.

She avoided her eyes. Melly was a well-wisher, she admitted reluctantly. Yet, her wishes fell flat and hurt her, and she was not ready to forgive her for that yet. No, what she needed was a distraction.

"Is he gone?" Rang Aunt Pittypat's mousy voice. "I was so nervous, I couldn't refuse him, and..."

"Yes. Yes, he is."

Scarlett's eyes turned emerald as she looked at that little fool with her red shawl, whose mind was already worrying over shocking fantasies. With mischief sparkling in her eyes, she turned a conspiratorial smile toward the unaware victim, and lightly said: "why, dear aunt, I believe Captain Butler has taken quite a fancy to you!"

Sarah Hamilton's eyes widened as she blushed like a girl over her first beau.

"To me?! Oh dear... Such a man... To me? But... Oh, that must be that shawl..."

Scarlett patted her shoulder in sympathy, a lazy grin on her face.

"Oh yes, dear heart, to you. He said... Well, he said it brought on the color of your face. And how distressed he was with the idea of unsettling you so! Asked me on and on how he could remedy it."

"Oh dear!"