Hello everyone, and as usual, thank you for your enormous patience and tolerance with me. It seems sadly real life has to always catch me unaware, and I'm left trying to catch up, without being able to get anything done as I would want to. Not to mention I've realized I've made other mistakes on the other chapter, Pork sadly not being in Atlanta yet. I really shouldn't post during the night. Ah, the frustration, the frustration...! Well, at least the elections in my country have passed, so that's a thing.

Anyway, here's one very big chapter, that I hope will satisfy you and leave you waiting for more.

In fact, it is all a very big foreplay for all that will be soon coming in the next chapters, and now I'm wondering... if I wrote some mature parts (though not completely explicit, mind you!), would you like it? Let me know!

I send all my love to you, and hope you will like it!

Elise

...

Wilmington, January 17th 1863

As he scribbled down the inventory of the last ship on the walnut desk of his miserable office in Wilmington (misery does not quite draw attention, had cynically declared the infamous Rhett Butler, who had brought him into this), Edward Goldin pondered on the good and the bad of his situation.

The good part was that he was becoming well-known in many parts of the society, and he was beginning to have about him the image of a passionate amateur d'art, and a very sincere philanthropist (very sincere meaning out of guilt he could not help but give the majority of the fortune acquired not so honestly to charities, to Butler's dismay).

The best part was that he was marrying Melanie Hamilton, the light of his life. Very soon, but not quite as soon as he would have wanted. She had said yes, and that had been the hardest part. Now, he had to make her proud and make sure he would be able to provide and offer her what she deserved, and that was the longest part. Indeed, how could he ever gather enough?

She wanted a summer wedding, quiet and joyful. He would offer her that, and more. But it meant also more waiting. (Was that a bad part? A good? He was not sure).

The very bad part was that he was still one of the many that took advantage of the war and its victims, very unaware victims, and he feared he would not be able to bear it, thus unsettling his first objective.

There was a cruel satisfaction he had felt sometimes, that thrilled him as much as it shocked him, knowing that he could see things clearly when others couldn't. In that way, he understood Rhett Butler more and more by the day. Which was terrifying.

They were still talking about General Morgan and General Forrest's victories in Tenessee, talking as if they had lived it, as if somehow this was proof of their destiny. Yet, more and more, the talks grew tense with a nervous quirk as doubt settled. When would that war end? Why did it linger? The enthusiasm seemed to become more and more forced as uncertainties came and resources began to feel lacking and highly-priced.

It was one thing to divert many pieces of art from place to place, sell them to the one that had more money, unmask frauds and create frauds. Those who believed and paid for it were absurdly rich and foolish, and deserved to pay for it.

It was another to play with the lives of people by speculating on food.

Not only it was a blow on his convictions, and he knew he was on the break to hate himself if he continued doing it, but how could he look into Melanie's eyes if he did?

Life is already hard enough, she would say. The only thing we can do is stick together and share what we have, so no one is left behind.

This gave him strength enough. He put his coat on, and decided to go to the pub. He had been on the brick many times now to give his resignation, and now would be the day. This time, he would tell it to Butler, and be firm about him. This time, after his usual rapport, he would arrange for his leaving, and he would find a place...

He did not know where exactly for now, but he would find it. Hadn't it enough money now to, at least, build a home? Take her away from the war?

The city was noisy and crowdy, and the scent of the sea mixed with less pleasant smells. On the way, he almost bumped into a hooded woman, and something in her made him stare at her for a moment. There was a baby in her arms, and she held it almost carelessly. But that wasn't what unsettled him. There was a screaming despair in that woman, poring through every pore. She was looking for someone, he could see.

Yes, she was familiar... He had once seen this red hair that was tumbling down with a sharp contrast to pure white skin.

But where had he seen her?

He shook his head. Another one of these sailors' wife coming to port town to have news of their husbands, certainly.

He went to the pub and waited, as usual.

He waited a long time.

And he was certainly about to leave, disheartened, his beautiful determination set to waste, when, as he crossed the threshold, he met another familiar face.

A big grin came to him.

"Eugenio!" Edward exclaimed, his face lightening up at the vision of his friend. "Such a long time without seeing you!"

Eugenio froze, startled, then narrowed his dark grey eyes on him.

"Indeed," He quipped. "One of the devil's tricks, perhaps, to make me reconsider my decision."

The tone was clipped, strangely irritated. Edward kept his distance. He must be in one of his moods, he thought.

"Where have you been?"

"Oh, somewhere and nowhere."

"Still running after girls, certainly."

The smile was tight. He called for a drink, and Edward settled back with him, curious about his whereabouts.

"You know me," He answered sharply, the tip of his finger grazing the glass, and it whistled sinisterly. "How's the devil, by the way? How's Butler ?"

Edward shrugged.

"Still running there and there, while keeping an infuriating spotless poise," Somehow, hearing that opinion, though he had been tempted to call him that himself, urged him to give nuance to that aspect. "I think.. he's a better man than he wants to admit. But..."

"... He's terribly ruthless and opportunistic, and you want to resign," Eugenio added with a smirk and a raise of the brows. "That's more than probably true, though he would feel insulted if you said so to his face," He paused. "Not about you wanting to resign, though. He must know it for quite some time."

He chortled, before taking a sip of his liquor. Something shifted in his face, and Edward looked at him curiously.

"What if... I asked you to come with me?"

"I'd tell you now is not really the time for one of your adventures," Edward grinned. "I'm going to marry."

"Really?" Eugenio said politely, yet coldly. "That Southern girl?"

The grin went wider.

"Who else?"

"You're not one to bed and forget, aren't you? I should have known," Edward was about to protest when Eugenio continued, with that same, vexing tone. "What does your family say about it?"

Another bucket of frozen ice. His mother had died during the last year, and the fever that took her seemed to have brought her back to her childhood, and she asked to go home. He had held her hand, and she had smiled politely, before fading away.

He had not wanted to think of that day. He had dismissed it entirely, focusing on Melanie. But with Eugenio, it was brought back with a harshness that unsettled him.

"Da doesn't care. I would have liked my mother to see her," He whispered in a wistful tone. "She would have been proud, I know."

"You don't know that."

"I know she was Southern."

"And they pushed her away." Eugenio insisted, a bitter twist on his mouth. "Don't trust Southern girls, Ed. They will wrap you around their little finger, make you believe anything is possible. You'll get a ring to settle the deal, and the next thing you know, their brothers are on your tracks, and they are ready for blood. They only accept their own, the others are barbarous in their eyes."

Edward blinked by the extreme in his friend's discourse. It could only mean one thing…

"You were serious with... Whoever she was... You..."

A sense of maddening jest came twisting the corner of his friend's mouth, came breaking his irises with bitter irony. And he broke down. Completely.

"I'm afraid I was made a fool, because she almost made an honest man out of me. But she wasn't honest herself, so why should I? And why should I care ? Girls have been liking me very well ever since I knew how to play. And played then, I did, and many a time. So tell me, why do I care?"

Eugenio's lids fell slightly, and his head lowered thoughtfully like a wilted flower.

"And yet... I know if I saw her again, I would fall to my knees and beg her. I would lose my freedom," "I took from her, and yet, why does it feel she's the one who won? She made me realize I could want a child of my own, a family, when I had always thought it would be a bother."

"Indeed, you're generally not that sentimental." Edward said, ill-at-ease.

"You and I know the importance of recognition," And indeed, they did. This was something Edward had not want to think again, the spite of strangers who would look down at them without even knowing their name. The need to be heard, without having the means to. But they had progressed. He was sure they had. "I won't have that family. I won't be an honest man."

"You probably wouldn't have liked that."

"Perhaps not. Now I'll never know." He shrugged, one last attempt at dismissal. Yet, Edward could see his fingers nervously, almost angrily, fidgeting without any object to focus on. The eyes glared, as if daring him to protest. "I'm going to fight. That's the only thing that makes me think less powerless. I won't flee. I won't hide behind music and a pretty smile. I've done it, but now it has grown sour. Music... It doesn't sound the same to me anymore, you know, when the drums are calling for war."

He fell into the couch, and his hair hid his face as he crouched, shoulders tense and rigid.

"Yes. I will fight against her and her people, because she won't let me take her away, and because she's part of a world I hate and that rejects me. I should hate her. But mostly, I want to thank her, because she made me realize what a coward I was."

Damn it, it was worse than he thought.

Perhaps I've never known you at all, Edward thought. Perhaps you've been closer to me than I've thought.

Somehow, the thought was disturbing. He would have preferred to stay with the vision of a boy more charming, outgoing than him, despite knowing that vision was terribly lacking. It was an illusion that served his own self-esteem, and now it was crumbling before his eyes.

"You have a family," Edward tried. "We're brothers, aren't we?"

Eugenio grinned after a time, his head lifted to give him a look of deep amusement. This felt more like his usual self.

"Since the first time you've been bullied for frowning over your notebook and not paying attention to the fight in front of you."

"I wasn't frowning."

"You were. Terribly so," His friend frowned. "You're a dreamer, Edward. Not a dreamer of the fancy, esthetically pleasant thing, but a dreamer of the truth. You draw and draw, but you're never satisfied until you think it's close to what it truly is."

"I don't think I like that definition of myself."

"You should. Few people love the truth as you do."

"Then call me lover," Edward retorted. Oh, if only Eugenio knew how he had seen him! He would certainly not think so.

Eugenio let out a sharp laugh and mussed up his hair. "Alright, lover boy. Indeed, that suits you well now."

Yet, every dreamer lies to themselves, Edward noted uneasily. And indeed, he had.

His friend sighed, as if in answer to his thought.

"The only problem is, you're such an innocent !"

"I'm not !"

"You are!" He relented in amusement. "And such a terrible one at that!"

To that, he paid another round of drinks, and after some time, Edward interrupted the silence between them with a soft: "You know I would do anything for you."

Eugenio stopped for a moment, staring at him. His smile grew sad.

"Yes. I know you would take the hit for me, take my place at the expanse of your happiness. And that's the proof that you're still so very naïve, despite working with Hell's Butler. You want to be close to the truth, but you're so determined to prove yourself that you sometimes don't see other things outside that."

Edward lowered his head.

"I'm sorry."

Have I not seen you? Have you needed me, and I was just not there for you ?

Eugenio groaned with irritation.

"And already blaming yourself for it and promising to do better. Smile, Ed," His friend tapped his cheek. "I'm the fool, but I need you to smile for me. I need someone to cheer for me before battle. Would you do that?"

He tried to. He really tried to. Yet, it ached to do so, the skin stretching and the teeth gritting. And worse than that, his eyes became wet and he reddened with anger and shame.

Eugenio snorted.

"No, forget it, I should have known asking you to smile when you don't feel like it is an absurdity. You look ridiculous, and I'm sure your Miss would drop you off on the point if she could see you now."

"I hope not, Eugenio. I hope not."

...

Atlanta, January 22nd 1863

"Hello, Atlanta's fairest!" Rhett saluted genially to the audience on this quiet evening in Aunt Pitty's home, before grinning at Scarlett with a mocking little bow. "And you too, of course, Scarlett."

She pouted, her hands on her hips.

"Very funny, you cad."

Aunt Pitty had been wiser than her. She was waiting in the living room, fanning herself at the thought, yet she was relatively protected from him. Not like her.

He had his little jeering smile, always ready for her, daring her to retort, and she was very much tempted to tell him a piece of her mind. Especially when he did not seem to have brought a gift with him!

"You don't mind, Scarlett?" Melanie asked softly at her side, her wide eyes already apologizing for the trouble.

L'enfer est pavé de bonnes attentions , Pierre Robillard had once told Scarlett, and looking at her, she felt her friend was quite the perfect example of it. It was hell to suffer from it, but she was one of these sincerely good persons that one could not blame for so long without feeling the sting of bad conscience on oneself as well.

She nodded absentmindedly, her eyes on Rhett.

"He's the man who fathered the boy, after all," Suellen meanly added on the other, her eyes vicious, breaking her thought.

"'The man who fathered the boy'..." Rhett retorted, unfazed, gazing up and down at Suellen's frame with that insulting glance he knew so well how to do, the one that made you feel worthless. "I quite like the title. I might put it on the door of my hotel room, along with the name of the one who suggested it. What say you, Scarlett? Think it might attract enough attention?"

"Humpf!" Her sister turned away, offended. "I'll have a platter sent to my room."

Melanie flustered, ill-at-ease, and gathered her tiny hands in front of her. Yet, something in her eyes suggested that if she disagreed with the method, she was glad Suellen received a set-down for her aggressive remark. She whispered softly she had to go back to the kitchen, and quickly walked away.

"I didn't want to upset Miss Hamilton," Rhett said quietly. "Your sister's mood certainly did not improve from the last time I've seen her."

"I can't bear her these days," She exclaimed with great dismay. "Couldn't she be nice? It's Wade's birthday!"

Rhett put his hands on her shoulders, and she was tempted to lean on him. He seemed about to kiss her head, yet he didn't, and she was left pondering with half-closed eyes

"She's a bitter little girl, Scarlett. Let her. She dislikes you because you're doing things she dreams of doing but won't dare."

"Fiddle-dee-dee, she can't blame me for Frank Kennedy!" She protested. "She has chosen to do it herself!"

"And that's perhaps the worst thing."

She pressed her lips together, the words gathering in her mouth spontaneously, like when she was a girl, and Rhett's opinion was all that mattered. Yet, it brewed with an urgency that made her drop some of them on the way.

"Frank Kennedy sent word. He expects to come at the beginning of the month."

"And when would the wedding take place?"

"He did not say."

No mention of it in his letter. Nothing. And Suellen was left undecisive, and decidedly unhappy.

"I see," He commented thoughtfully. "He doesn't seem very eager, don't you think? Or perhaps does he think he has all the time in the world, because she has no means to escape her fate."

It hit the nail on the head.

"Well, I don't care! I don't!" She cried violently, shaking her head vigorously.

"You do, darling."

A pout came to her as she could not deny it further, lest she would be made a fool. She clenched her fists and faced him, belligerent.

"And did you have to joke about it so?"

"My dear, you may be vexed, but I can't say I' m not as well. Bear it, Scarlett. You've made your bed."

Her eyes snapped at him, and she almost retorted he had been in it as well. Her mouth opened, then shot, but he caught it nonetheless. A note of pleased humor came to his face.

"And yes, I was there too. You should not be afraid to add it. That's perhaps what makes it all better, don't you think?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. She raised her hands helplessly.

"Ah, now that's a joke!"

With him, it was her sanity she was losing bit by bit, and her peace of mind.

"Thus talked one who said he was no marrying man. As if you knew anything about it."

"Is that a dare, darling ?" He drawled. "Do I have to remind you that I've tried many times, and you stubbornly refused?"

"Have you, really? I did not remind you asked me."

He stared at her with an amused smile and a lifted brow. She scowled, defensive.

"I mean, like a man that ought to be taken seriously."

"Ouch. That hurts, my dear. Have I missed the shot that badly?"

He caught her arm before she could escape him, and the soft strength of his hand sent her right on his chest. His eyes were dancing and his voice was fond, and warm, and deep, and she couldn't bear it.

Oh, couldn't he just kiss her?

She froze, dumbstruck, and blushed furiously.

"Laugh with me, Scarlett."

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to put some distance. Yet, she could feel the buttons of his coat hard on her body, and she was sure it would leave a mark. But what she feared more was that he could feel her heartbeats increase so quickly and strongly.

He might take it as another proof of his victory, the cad, she thought, and her dismayed frown deepened at it.

So she struggled more against his embrace.

"I'll laugh with you when you'll stop laughing at me."

"No need to be violent for such a little demand," He could not help but break a smile." I laugh at us."

"Well, you'll laugh alone."

He let her go with a taunting, warm chuckle, one that made her realize she had not been able to hide it.

Damn the man!

Finally, they gathered around a meal of roasted ham and potatoes, a rich meal they hadn't had for days (or perhaps Rhett had), and Scarlett dug in, ignoring Rhett's amused smile as she did. Melanie barely touched her part, though already meager. She seemed pensive, almost absent. Her usually clear forehead was marred with a frown which broke as soon as it was remarked, and she smiled as if nothing was happening. Rhett looked at her for a moment, and Scarlett had the upsetting sensation he already knew what it was all about. But before she could question it, a knock on the door rang in the room, breaking the discussions that had shyly taken place.

With the satisfied intensity of an actor about to surprise its public, Rhett stood up and went to answer it. Curious, Scarlett lifted her head and tried to peer on his direction, yet her gaze was distracted by the breadth of his shoulders, so well fitted in his linen suit, flexing ever so slightly beneath it with a feline sensuality that made her catch her breath. There was a hollow between the blades, and a strange thought came Would it fit if she tried to put her face here? Could she drop a kiss? Would he shudder if she did?

He gave her a questioning glance as he turned back to them, but Scarlett lowered her eyes, her fingers pushing slightly the end of her fork and knife away from her. An amused smile came to his lips, but he had another show in mind, and it began as Melly cried in wonder at the sight of what he had in his hands.

He was holding a cake as if it was a present meant for a great king, and she had to prevent herself from giggling. It was richly decorated, filled with cream as she hadn't seen for a long time, and she could not help but salivate on it. With his excellent bass and a pleased grin, he began to sing a birthday song, and they soon joined him all, Melly, Aunt Pitty, Scarlett, and even Uncle Peter and Cheyenne. There was suddenly something very warm and joyful that was difficult to be insensitive to, and Rhett's silliness contributed to it, as he dropped some dance steps, while still perfectly keeping the cake still. It was a decadence that made Scarlett feel giddy as if she were the one having it, and he sent her a wide smile as he saw her clapping and laughing with the others.

And then finally, he faced the boy of the hour and held the cake humbly, like a poor offering to his majesty. Wade frowned at it and pouted, the little rascal, as if such thing was barely tolerable for his tastes, not enough to make him impressed. Father and son stared at one another very seriously, before Wade viciously attacked the cake, the filling thrown joyfully on Rhett's fine shirt and jacket. He then very triumphally took a bite of it himself and let out a very cheerful and contagious peal of laughter.

On Rhett's face appeared a light scowl after a minute of bafflement, but he had enough humor to find entertainment even at his expanse.

The remnants of the cake were shared, and they continued chatting, after liberating Wade from his chair when he began to protest it. The candles were already half done as Miss Pitty declared she was far too tired and begged her leave.

Scarlett then had settled on the carpet, fingers grazing the fabric as she wondered what she could do with Wade as he wandered on four and clawed at the fluff.

Well, and if she could show Rhett she was a good mother, it would be quite a satisfaction, she thought.

She shook her head, and Melly, sensing her distress, placed herself with her, and tried to engage in a vivid play with the three of them. But all Scarlett could think was that Melly was naturally good with children, so enthusiastically playful that even Wade was enthralled and waved his hands happily.

Scarlett hid her feelings from Melly's eyes but could not from Rhett. Yet, she was surprised that instead of a mocking expression, she met a soft smile, and it gave her heart to participate more.

Melanie had to declare forfeit soon enough though, and if Scarlett wasn't worried of her tendency to fatigue, she would have thought the eldest girl had done it on purpose. She declared she would take a book for the evening, at least announcing she would be back shortly.

Rhett swiftly took Melly's place, his elbow crossed lazily across one knee, the other leg stretching, deliberately on the end of the skirt of her dress. She refused to meet his gaze though, and continued to watch over Wade, who was approaching Aunt Pitty's favorite chair, his hand grasping for something to hold on. The boy turned his head for a moment towards them, his gaze searching, and Rhett raised his chin in false outrage.

"You owe me one, little monster."

She rolled her eyes, yet could not help the cracking of a tiny smile on her face.

"He doesn't owe you anything. He's a baby."

"I suppose you quite prepared him for it, my lovely minx."

"Me? No, poor silly ol' me wouldn't think of such a thing!"

He laughed shortly and lifted her chin to force her to meet his gaze.

"Darling. Don't put that act with me, who knows you since you were a child. God knows women are forced enough to play the fools, but I won't have you doing it for me. That'd be making me the biggest fool of all."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Aren't all men fools if so?"

His eyes darkened.

"Indeed, my dear. Indeed. And some more than others. But you'd be a fool if you think it would work with me."

With that, he gave her a hard kiss on her lips. She refrained a cry of surprise. Instead, the cry came from elsewhere, and they broke it, dumbfounded. It was Scarlett that reacted first to the sight of Wade, so tall on his two feet, raising to meet them. Her hands went to her mouth, a mouth that had still the mark of the boy's father, she felt it with a pounding heart, as she let out a delighted cheer.

"Wade! Oh, my love, you're so fierce!"

Rhett quickly reacted, and hooted.

"Ready to kill some Yankees, aren't you?"

Wade frowned and pursed his lips in concentration. One step. Then another.

And suddenly, just as he had stood up with such strong resolution, he fell clumsily, failed by the clumsiness of his own babyhood. He frowned deeper, as if dismayed and surprised it was so, when he had raised so high. Then, he seemed to realize that indeed he had fallen, and it hurt, and a piercing cry came to him, followed by the desperate reach for his mother's arms.

"Oh baby...!" She cried, rushing to his call, before rubbing her cheek to the top of his crane. Relief came to her, and she found herself whispering. "You do need me, after all."

"You raised and you fell, little soldier. And still you come back in your mother' arms," Rhett idly remarked, before swiftly getting closer, and taking Wade from her arms. "Leave them a little, would you? You can't always disdain them for granted then jump in them when you see fit, they are for others too," He turned toward Scarlett. "Look at how he glares at me, that love of yours !" He shouted cheekily. "That's not a baby you've had, but a devil."

She shrugged, failing to make her wide smile disappear, and replied without a thought.

"Like his father, I suppose."

His eyes softened, a tremor of tenderness leaving a touch of light in these orbs.

"Damn right."

He gathered the boy in his arms, and Wade looked at him, for a moment perplexed, before something in his expression seemed to fascinate him and he began to stare in wonder.

"You know, there was a right devil once, and he was your great-grandfather, Wade," Rhett said softly. "Alexander, his name was. A name for a king. A pirate king."

He told his story with his deep, captivating voice, and she felt as if he were holding the reins of her emotions in a tight grip, tugging it with his drawl until it was tearing her heart apart. The logs in the fireplace cracked, sending another wave of heat, yet she could not help but getting closer. She held onto his arm, watching Wade, feeling Rhett...

"I had almost forgotten you were so good with children," She replied softly. Her head, so light, felt so right on his shoulder.

He made a gesture of dismissal, as if questioning it was all nonsense. Of course, he was.

"We make a pretty good picture, don't we?"

She nodded, dozing but a little. Yes, pretty… pretty good. But she wasn't about to admit it just yet.

"You big bully."

Wade had fallen asleep in his arms, almost dwarfed on this strong body that now shook with a chuckle, and it warmed her to her core.

"I quite like the endearment."

"It wasn't."

"Oh, but it was."

Her little boy. Her man. Hers. A contented smile came as her head fell on his shoulder. She felt his light chuckle tumbling down his chest, low and deep, and heard a little humming that was like an invitation for her weary head.

For a moment, they stayed silent, looking at the sleeping child that was a mixture of them both, Rhett's features being clearer to Scarlett, just as hers were more pronounced for Rhett.

He was the first to break the silence, and it was soft, and filled with fondness.

"You laugh like a child. It's funny because when you were young, you did not laugh often. You were an angry, busy little child. Always running. But when you do, and not that silly girl's titter you've learned to have and think that it pleases the lads, your face breaks in two."

"I can't be angry all the time."

"Pity. Anger does make your eyes darken and shine like two pits of acids."

"You do know how to make compliments to a lady."

"To a lady, indeed, I know," He teased with a little humming, before sighing, satisfied like a big wild cat. "I love your laugh."

I love you. Love me. Love me !

His eyes were closed. Her heart ached with longing as she stared at him. The fire cracked softly in the place, and its heat enveloped them so softly she wanted to curl against him and not move. It scared her how easily she could dismiss reason when he was there.

She lingered for a moment. Then, Melly's voice rang in the room and she raised swiftly to join her, unwilling to meet his gaze. Still, she felt the very moment his eyes opened and followed her.

Her cheeks were burning, but everywhere where she had touched him, her body was cold, missing him.

Atlanta, April 1rst 1863

Frank Kennedy came much later than he had expected, and the hazard of the calendar was that he showed up on Miss Pittypat Hamilton's doorstep on that particular day. If he knew it, he did not remark on it, and the lack of humor and observation of his character was not to hint he was aware of it, or would have been amused by it if he was.

His adventure had barely changed him, but he carried himself as a hero waiting for congratulations. Perhaps for the increase of gray in his hair. Rhett had remarked with a smirk earlier that day that though he came back with money, it was certainly not the amount that could have been expected if the man had been a good negotiator.

You have taken the wrong horse, he had smugly said to her.

Well, Scarlett did not care. At least, it had bothered him.

He had left her for two months with barely a notice when she had expected at least a gift sent for Valentine's Day, and she was still so very vexed from his desertion, though the rational part of her told her he had business to attend to.

And what a business! She did not want to think of it!

She forced herself to smile as her sister's beau came saluting her.

"Suellen…" He said softly as he took one hand between his own, as if talking to a child. "Sugar, you'll be my bride."

And Suellen stared, then nodded and smiled, though there was something frozen on her mouth, something dull in her eyes.

Why, if it was her, she would berate the man for taking so long!

"She must be so happy," Melanie whispered, her eyes dreamy as if she were already far away, with another. "Marrying the one she wanted for so long."

She is completely miserable, Scarlett thought as finally, he turned toward her to pay his respects.

"Miss O'Hara," He said, before blushing and looking at her with pitying, condescending eyes. "Oh, pardon, Mrs. Hamilton."

She stared at him, her lower lip turning up for a moment and a brow raising as he took her hand and kissed it. His expression was that of one faced with one they had trifled with just as they announced their engagement to another. An unease marked by self-satisfaction for being so desired.

In what kind of dreams did that man live in? As if she could have been seduced by the likes of that old ninny!

She would show him! She was better than that!

"Mr. Kennedy," She nodded with a frozen smile.

...

...

...

Atlanta, April 5th 1863

"Corn bread?"

"Whit flo'r is rare, ma'am, and when der is, de price be too much. Ah couldn't find it today."

"Alright, Cheyenne," said Melly. "We shall do with what we have. Please don't tell Scarlett. She has other things to worry about, the poor dear."

"Aye, Miss."

Behind the door, however, Scarlett had heard it all. It was useless to think of protecting her from that, and for a moment, she resented Melly. It was foolish to do so, when she knew already that. Others had delighted in "enlightening her" already.

She sighed.

Mrs. Merriwether had raised big innocent eyes as Scarlett evoked the doctor's letter, published a few days after that night at Mrs. Elsing, but Mrs. Whiting's reaction had left no doubt. Oh, it's better than you know it, poor, poor dear, before getting your little heart caught between his claws, she had said with a hushed voice, with an avidness for gossip that she failed to hide with a fearful tone.

They made a show of wanting to protect her, but she knew they wanted to keep her under their wings.

Grand-père had said to let them think so. Yet, Rhett had already once pushed her to take a stand, and she felt sure he would do that again. What could she do?

Something twitched in Scarlett's heart. Rumor had it Rhett was interested in speculating about food and other goods. Rumor had it he had headquarters in Wilmington and was making the price raise, while still giving spoiled good to those who had enough money to buy it. Could it be? She asked herself with unease.

Yet, the image was unpleasant, heavy, and she dismissed it quickly. She had enough of unpleasant thoughts, and she was willing to sacrifice that little comfort to avoid having to have an opinion about Rhett's actions. He had said he cared for them, and surely, he wouldn't do anything that might go against their well-being.

Pah! She thought. If it was just about flour, it would be fine!

But she knew it wasn't, and the fact that she could excuse everything about him made her ill-at-ease. He could do anything, and she would still stand by him, and that was a power she was giving him that he could use and abuse, and leave her powerless.

Be loyal to them and they'll be loyal to you, Grand-Pere had said. Well, she had decided to take that leap of faith, but that did not mean she felt sure it was a safe choice. She knew she had said she would not fall into his arms anymore, but he was still there, teasing and charming, and the world was changing, and… Name of God, she loved him!

Damn her pride, she wanted him! She wanted his love, his comfort, his daring! She was too young to stay angry and sad when she wanted to live.

But was it right to be powerless against him ? She knew when he cared, he could make things so easy and good. But once the interest was gone, so was the effort. He appeared to delight in turning everything upside down for the sake of demonstrating it was all just a show, and it seemed she was his favorite audience. How many times had he made her laugh when she shouldn't? During the masses, the gatherings... He would whisper into her ear, and she would be gone just like he wanted her to, and that was the worse thing.

She thought of the birthday cake, so rich and decadent. She thought of the seats he kept for her, of the little gifts he brought them.

No, Rhett would not let her and Wade starve. He cared, he had to.

But wasn't it also just for show?

Doubt like poison crept in her heart, and she felt it slow with dread.

She shook her head. She needed to focus on other things.

Like India.

India had come, and she was bearing a very self-satisfied smile and a little silver ring on her finger. The smile was even bigger when she was close to Scarlett, the glint in her eyes meaner and vicious.

To this, Scarlett could only shrug. Stuart had been a childhood friend, then a beau, and now he wasn't, and surprisingly she felt no pang of possessiveness over him, just a little bit of sadness and pity. She had drawn his attention, and yet he had come back for India, but even then, she was still sure it had been done half-heartedly, for Stuart couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted to please his family who wanted the match, or his twin who couldn't find anything interesting to India.

It was a season for betrothals, and she couldn't ignore the fact that it was brought in Aunt Pitty's little house with the arrival of one letter that Melly had tried to hide, without being able to refrain from blushing with joy, as if she had received an answer that she had been waiting for so long.

Scarlett walked silently to the window and stared at the people outside. She was sure their lives were so much easier, with their unwavering faith. A simple life in the world they knew, with walls they loved, and places they maintained.

Yet, the walls were shaking, and once she had seen their cracks, she couldn't unsee them. The more she looked, the more she wondered if she fitted in there, if she had ever fitted.

You know the answer, a sneaky voice came ringing at the back of her mind. You torture yourself, hoping it will be different, yet it is not so.

Dismayed, Scarlett quickly dismissed it.

Her eyes caught a bush of auburn hair and she frowned as the bush became a slightly crouching tall woman, and the slightly crouching tall woman came ringing at the door.

And when she came to open it, it was a very disheveled friend she was seeing.

"Randa?"

Said Randa scowled very energetically.

"Are you going to let me enter? It's quite dusty out there!"

"I don't know. You might bring the dust inside."

They stared, then shared a laugh.

"I've missed you," Randa admitted, and Scarlett nodded and let her in.

"What brings you here ?"

"What a charming welcome. Did you truly think I would leave you alone seething as India paraded as if she had won the war?" She scoffed. "I could see the smoke from miles away, you know."

Scarlett crossed her arms. "So you've invited yourself in."

"I call that saving you all from the boredom and the self-pity. That's what I'm here to do. But I see you're already drowning in it."

Scarlett couldn't say otherwise. She had been feeling quite down and irritated these days.

Randa lazily fumbled over the little statuettes on the fireplace. She had never known what to do with her hands, that one, and when one clumsy gesture made the little clock fall and break on the floor, Scarlett had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and smile in begrudging fondness.

"By the way, I'm to berate you very harshly. You've forgotten to pay your respects to Grandma Fontaine this year."

"I'm afraid of what it means. What shall I do, you think?"

"Oh, you know she is fond of her old rum. Do you think you can manage to spirit some away from your Mr. Butler?"

"He's not mine."

"Then make him, silly," The auburn-haired girl dismissed with a spiteful gesture. "After your little stunt, I've heard he's still turning around you like a vulture around rotten flesh. That has to mean something. And quite the usefulness."

"You have quite the imagery."

"That's what Grandma said," Randa widened her eyes, daring her to blame her for reporting the woman's words. "Or don't make him. No matter what, do something! I've been very bored," Randa declared. "I've missed you and your shenanigans. The County is not the same when the talks about you come three days after you did something."

"I suppose after saying it twice I should say it too?"

"I already know it, silly," She dismissed with a satisfied smile. "By the way, where is the boy? His Godmother demands him!"

"You're not the Godmother. I've never chosen..."

"I sure am."

"I expected a little begging for it," Scarlett continued. "And Melly..."

"I've claimed him first, too late for that!"

"God helps him."

Thankfully, he was upstairs and asleep at the moment.

"Randa!"

Melanie appeared, all smiles and rainbows, her eyes sparkling and body trembling with a sweet little impatience, like that of a child eager to reveal a gift.

"Oh, Randa dear, you're here to stay, of course! I wouldn't have you leave so soon!" She invited with her carelessly generous ways. "Oh, we should be so very comfortable, us all at our little home!"

"We should trample over one another, you mean," Scarlett groaned.

"See!" Randa exclaimed, visibly pleased. "Now, that's quite the welcome I expected!"

They settled on the rosewood couch and its velvety-covered cushions, and Melanie alternated between her two friends, without being able to focus entirely on the two of them at the same time.

"Now that you're here, I feel like we're the three Musketeers once again!" Melly cried happily as her hands eagerly reached her friends'. "Darlings... Scarlett dear, sweet Randa, my adorable friends… Can you keep a secret?"

Scarlett stared. With the glow of love lightening her, Melly really was pretty, her eyes alert and tender and lips ready to cry words of love to the world. What she deemed a secret was written in her face already, and Scarlett wondered how she could have hid it for so long, and how she could have been so blind.

Well, she did have other things to think about...

"I crave for secrets… ouch!"

Scarlett had pinched Randa.

"Hush! Can't you see the poor girl is out of her mind?"

Melly's smile widened and she raised her hands dramatically, as if in prayer.

"I am... Crazy!"

"She certainly looks like it. She's up to something,"

"I am!" Melly protested with cheerful false outrage.

"You talk like a parrot. What is going on with you, Melly?"

Randa was amused, but Scarlett was not. She had the idea that doom would come, and that she would be the one to try to lessen the blow.

Conflicted as she may be, she could still remember the conviction in Goldin's eyes as he swore like her that he would destroy whatever made her unhappy.

"Don't ask her. Please don't."

"What have you done to her, Scarlett? I'm sure you quite broke her already!"

With a terrible blush, Melanie couldn't bear any more teasing.

"Oh, darlings! I cannot keep it for myself anymore! Will you be my bridesmaids?"

At her side, Randa froze. Scarlett sent a brief warning glare her way and replied with an obvious and ostentatious congratulation, leaving no place for any other opposite reaction.

"Of course, we will!" She cried with forced enthusiasm, elbowing her friend who still fought for things to say. "And when shall the happy event take place?"

Melanie beamed, already far too gone.

"Oh, I've just got the date! It'd be July 29th."


Wilmington, On the same day

Hetty Tarleton looked up, her heart jumping in her chest.

One day, her love would come back, she knew it. He would come back and forgive her. She had tracked his whereabouts here. She was sure he would come.

She gripped the windowsill and counted to ten. The sun was up and the sky red. Red like blood and hope. Red like the little house in which she had taken refuge, in that filthy port town. She had made her way to there slowly, but surely. Now, she would have answers.

She had always been nice to Emmie Slattery, and in return, she had gained allies from that white trash family that she couldn't disdain now. They were simple people, fishermen, but they were good people, and if they had looked down on her during the first day, she, that little lady who had never worked for her bread, that look had changed from pity to respect when she let go of her parasol, grew some freckles and dirtied her fine hands.

In fact, she found now the term trash was a snobbery she couldn't afford to, and that would be untrue with what she felt now.

Her old life was over now. She would never be a lady anymore. She had accepted it. She just wanted to live and be loved. But her love wasn't there. Not yet. Instead, she had the eternal memory of him in his son, who stared at her with demanding little eyes. And she couldn't bear that demand. Not his, nor anyone else.

She knew the eldest son was in love with her. It was obvious, from the long stares he sent her way, the shy "howdys" and how he always tried to bring her pretty things and seemed disappointed when she accepted them without any flourish.

But how could she appear impressed? No, it would be crueler to give hope when there was none to be had. Courtesy wouldn't be interpreted as such, she knew, and he would build a fire around something that just wasn't there for him.

Her fingers grazed the cold, wet glass.

Beloved, she thought. Won't you forgive me? Won't you let me change my mind? I have doubted, pushed you away, and you went away, thinking you would never be enough...

Beloved, come back, and see your son. Then, perhaps I'll come to love him, though he had hurt me so. Like you've hurt me...

Still, he was not here. She had sent letters in many places, but he still wasn't there. Had he even found it? The light in her eyes flickered, her heels stopped fidgeting and settled quietly on the ground.

Perhaps had she been too hasty. Perhaps she should have stayed home, with Pa and Ma.

Longing for Fairhill, for the easy and fun routine came to her. She missed teasing Camilla over her beaus, tossing Randa's bushy hair. Randa, the baby of the family, who, a few years ago still groaned in dismay when she had to put on a dress. She may have been about the same age as Scarlett, she was still the baby and she, the second one, had always dotted on her. Where could she be now? She hoped her ideas about independence had faded away. No independence would come for a lone woman, she knew that. The world which protected them also caged them, punished them if they went the other way. She did not want that for Randa.

Hetty had chosen passion over family, and she feared she would be left with nothing at all in the end. Her fierce nature, that she had kept on hold to be the clear-headed of the family, had won in a way that now left her powerless, friendless.

Had they resigned themselves? Were they still looking for her?

But how could she go back? She had gone too far to come back. She would not be the disgraced daughter, no, not her! She could not live and do that to her family.

No, the only thing to do was to wait. They would tease her after some time, and that would be it.

Wails came from upstairs, but she ignored it. No, not now. She could not.

Oh, beloved, she thought with distress. Won't I find you? Won't you find me?

Oh, dear ones, won't I see you again?

...

Atlanta, April 12th 1863

A ball was set to commemorate the first victory of the Confederacy at Fort Sumter. They had to take the former decorations for it, and the parquet, having not been waxed due to a lack of means, showed great signs of wear.

Sat like a wallflower in a corner with her fiancée, Suellen sighed and prevented herself from staring too hard at the other side of the room.

Ross Butler. He had entered the ball, so elegant and handsome, so honorable in his grey uniform, and she had remembered with a blush their first and only conversation. Determined, he had stridden to his brother's side and demanded a private moment with him.

Not like Frank, who seemed to hesitate on a lot of things. He spoiled her though, like a child, and she liked it. It had to be a great thing, and yet, it was not. There was something slow and condescending in her fiancee that was beginning to take a tool on her nerves, and her youth seemed to rebel under such treatment.

But Ross Butler... He was not old.

For a moment, he had seemed at odds with his brother. She had admired his profile as he frowned and seemed to berate the cad, while the eldest leered and tried to ridicule. Where Rhett Butler was dark and powerfully built, his worthy brother was lean and fairer.

Nothing could ridicule such a man, she decided with a leaping heart. A hero of war, he had been called. Making a visit to relieve the family of their worries before coming back to the front line. The heir of the Butler family...

And married, of course. But without children.

The good ones were always married, she thought with chagrin.

She could not help herself though, and she had approached enough to hear some words. Such rightfulness! Such dignity! Such fury in his drawl as he declared he should be in Charleston with the family, and not having to remind the black sheep that he had no claim to the name anymore! That he could at least have the decency to enlist like so many brave men, for the sake of their sister and mother who prayed for him despite it all!

He had said that, then left like a gentleman to ponder with the other great men of the war with a valiant smile, leaving the incorrigible scoundrel shrug it all off (the devil!) to take her sister to dance.

Oh, would that she could say all these words to Scarlett! To be the strongest against her, for once! To have it all and she nothing!

Else, she would never understand Suellen's pain. She would never understand how hard it was, to live in the shadows.

Perhaps saying indeed that this Rhett indeed had no name at all would hit its mark... She smiled maliciously at the thought, but it turned sour as she pictured sad green eyes staring at her. Not humiliated, defeated eyes, no, which was what she wanted and had tried to imagine. No, just sad, despaired.

She shook her head and pursed her lips. Somehow, she found she could not bear the thought of sadness, even on her sister. It just did not suit her. Somehow, she did not want to think of it.

Well, she had Frank now, and Frank was... Frank. At least, he was rich and he said he loved her. He said he wanted to spoil her, and yes he tried, and she terribly wanted to be spoiled. She deserved to be spoiled.

She had chosen. And yet... Why did it feel like she was making a bad decision? Even Melly, with her fiancee, half Cracker, half Yankee, seemed to have made a better choice than her!

Mr. Goldin was a charming man. He seemed a gentleman as he came a few days ago, a surprise for his fiancee, and he had been very attentive to his fiancee's friends, despite Randa Tarleton's glare and disapproving mouth. Yet, even that glare seemed to falter in front of his persistence, tainted by a hint of perplexity and doubt.

She stared at the crowd, the joyful and careless group dancing, and it deepened her feeling. And that was when she realized.

She was the sad one. A wilted flower, which only the oldest boy had condescended to pick.

She may make castles in the sand, with the dream of besting Scarlett, of admiring an honorable man, and having a formidable house and wealth. But it would never be enough. It never was.

She dared raise her head once more. But this time, that was the end of it all. This time, contact was made.

Eyes met, hearts froze with a horrifying understanding, stronger than honor, stronger than morals. A spark becoming flames when nothing had been done to light it.

He was sad and frustrated too. He understood it too.

He yearned for change too.

She turned her eyes away, but the deed was done. She frowned at the sight before her.

Oh, damn Scarlett and that man! How could they be so careless? It was scandalous, the way he held her, looked at her, the way she looked at him!

...

Rhett made Scarlett twirl, and her feet tattered on the marble floor with the clapping of heels. She felt her hair bristle, his eyes twinkle as she let the giddy feeling take over. He had seemed like a devil as he took her to dance, and now he was back to himself again. She wanted to curse at the world for hurting him, for that was hurt that he was trying to hide. She wanted to curse at his bore of a brother that had done it and left like the others as if he had done some great duty!

But now, the revengeful feeling was gone, replaced by relief. The hard grip had relaxed, the mocking jeer was gone and so was the opacity of his eyes. She savored it all, intoxicated by the heat, by the touch, the scent... Her skirts rustled against his legs, and finally he drew her to him. She did not dare to open her eyes, did not dare to say a word. His breath, fresh and sweet, tickled her cheekbone, and she was sure he could see the goosebumps on the skin.

He did, in fact. He was aware of everything about her, as if they were of one body, and whatever had transpired between him and his brother faded like an unpleasant memory. What did it matter that one man questioned his name when he was with her? What did it matter that his little brother had been sent to fetch him like a good dog, so that he could be berated for being what he was? How could he matter when he was so close to happiness, so close to her?

It didn't matter. He would send everyone to hell and back, if only he could stay with her. If only she allowed herself to give herself completely to him! Her heart beat quickly under her bodice, hammering against his chest, the same as his, to break the wall that separated them.

So close to something great, and yet not enough…

Damn her stubborn, precious mind. Damn the others, who were trying to push her away from him.

His nose caught her scent, more powerful in the straight dark hair that was arranged in the flowing style that was so very fashionable these days, the waterfall, and it trailed perfectly, without any false addition, to the back of her head. The scent of magnolia... A scent less tender than roses, yet stronger. He could feel each shade of this scent, that seemed frank at first, yet, when one stopped to analyze it, it stung with an almost minty touch, to open to a warm, if not completely sweet, heart. A velvety heart, with its dose of spice and passion, and a tenacity that entered the blood of the one who smelt it. A passion he had tasted without daring to believe it was love.

But not now. He would not make the same mistake. He intended to kindle it again. Slowly, but surely. He would drive her mad with desire and love, just as she did him. By God, it was not to be born! To have happiness at reach, and yet not to reach it! What a waste...

His grip tightened on her body, and he felt her gasp. On one movement, he was unsettling her, and he was reveling in it. Oh, if only she could let herself lean on him completely, break the walls that she had built around herself, let him lead! He felt like a soldier waiting for his captain to announce the battle, and it was a very frustrating feeling to him, who had always considered himself the captain of his own life.

Yes, he needed to break her walls, to build new ones. To build a home for her, for their child. God, the feeling of the boy in his arms, and her body against him! He craved to have it again.

He hummed against her ear, a thin strand of hair trembling at each breath of air that he took and blew.

"Do you remember, Scarlett? One year ago?"

She pressed her teeth to the corner of her lip. How could she forget?

"You know it, darling. Why are you still fighting it?"

Why, indeed? How could she resist the call? If Melly could have her happy ending with a man that may have had a scandalous conduct with another, why wouldn't she?

She closed her eyes and followed the rhythm.

Oh to be alive ! To smile, to love ! To be in his arms, to feel his hand graze ever so softly her lower back, teasing the fire In her !

Oh, to be alive and waiting! To lose one's heart so swiftly, and without hope!

Suellen looked at Frank. He was still looking at her indulgently, as if she were a child, and that his mere presence was a favour she should be grateful of. He was making an effort for her.

Many years ahead came before her eyes, years in his home caring for him, for his old body, his old things... And children... She shuddered.

Did she truly want that? Her heart dropped at the thought, and dark eyes followed her thought. She looked away and stared resentfully ahead.

In front of her, they were still dancing, careless as if no one else mattered. Their bodies were pressed so closely, it felt as if they were one! She sighed. Did she have to be always the responsible one? Suddenly, she wanted to throw it all.

Scarlett always had it all, and she was showing it to the world without a care. She was the eldest, yet she had avoided everyone's expectations, and still fate continued to smile at her. This was so unfair.

In the background, Ross Butler discreetly left the room, with a last mournful glance to his brother. Suellen tilted her head, and with a trembling voice, she asked to be able to refresh herself.

...

...

Wilmington, June 20th 1863

Hetty looked down, and the light in her eyes went out, like candles blown out by the wind.

He would not come.

He had played her, like he had played many women. She had not been different.

And yet, here she was… and she was different.

Her hands had roughened up, and her nails were dirty. Those were not the hands of a lady. But she was not under any disillusion. She had given up on this willingly, and she knew she would do it again. She would not be a Tarleton if she couldn't hold up her head even through adversities.

But there was another problem she had to settle with, and she knew her choice would definitely make her a person she never wanted to be.

Had she another choice?

She packed anxiously, though in fact she had barely anything to gather. She had to be quick if she wanted to catch the next train. She had already lost so much time, and then...

The boy in the cradle stared at her. She stopped for a moment, tense, then looked at him curiously. He had these dark grey she did not want to see, could not. She had tried to ignore them since the beginning. But what could she do? She had not even a hint of belief to give him. Faith had left her. And now... Perhaps it would have happened. But it hadn't for her. She couldn't do anything about it. There was a coldness in her, a coldness she did not like for it had never been there before.

She was supposed to love him, and she did not. It was a very surprising thing, for she was one to love quickly and deeply. Yet, not this time. It was an enigma that unsettled her for a moment, before she decided. There was nothing to do about it.

She dropped her bag.

"I would have loved you if things had been different," She pleaded. "Don't look at me like that. It's not any fault of mine. I am a child too, and a child cannot take care of another."

Her fists clenched at her side. She could not fool herself any longer.

It was either her or the boy.

"Yes. Yes, it's my fault. I know that. It's not mine only. But I will live with this, and you will too. You'll be loved there. I know it. Far more than I could ever love you. You will forget me. I may not, but that would be my fault, and only."

She lifted her head, her eyes hard.

She had to go home.

But was there still a home for her to come to?

She took her bag and went.

...

….

Atlanta, June 29th, 1863

"You can do as if I'm not here," Randa declared from the beginning, as they walked in the parc to find a picnic spot. "I'm just here for the chicken, anyway. And to protect the little boy's innocence, of course."

"If he had still some left already," She muttered under her breath.

Scarlett sighed but kept going, feeling a little surer of herself by her presence. She knew with Randa, he wouldn't dare be as bold as he could be. At least a little less.

But more importantly, she knew Randa's presence would prevent her from giving in so swiftly. She knew Randa would stay by her side, while Melly would discreetly find a way out, and she would be left alone.

"Such a lovely girl," He commented.

"She's my friend."

"Miss Melanie is your friend. I like her. I do believe she has good influence on you," He noted swiftly. "That girl, though? She's your guard dog. A very negligent one, but one nevertheless. You're still wary of me."

Her eyes narrowed into slits.

"You're only saying that because Melly would have turned a blind eye and not said anything."

"And do you think you need someone who does? Are you still thinking, my darling little hysteric, that you need protection? From me?"

He leaned more, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I wanted to, I'd abduct you and Wade, and no protection could prevent me from doing it."

She grew hot with the thought. Her arms squeezed Wade a little tighter. The boy fidgeted, dismayed by his lack of freedom of movement.

"I'm sure with Wade it would be quite an uncomfortable ride."

"You're so precious, darling!" He leaned back and guffawed, and the sound of his laughter rang pleasantly in her belly. "Or is it protection from yourself?" He drawled softly, and she gasped, overheated. Her mouth pursed.

"Of course, she needs protection, and with reason," Randa barked with a mocking bow, making them jump. "Woof!"

A corner of his mouth went up as he turned to Scarlett.

"You know I did not mean that when I said you needed a dog."

She gave him a saucy look. She was still a little vexed that Randa had not intervened earlier, when she was sure she had heard everything. She was beginning to rethink the pertinence of her choice.

"And here I thought you were a man knowing to adapt on any situation. I'm disappointed."

"You're putting the test quite far, Scarlett."

She hummed a little song, and playfully raised Wade to her level. He was heavy for her, still she made a show of kissing his nose.

"What do you think, Wade?" She cooed. "Is it so? Perhaps we should go further..."

He only let out a disgruntled groan. She pouted.

"Stop bothering the child, he only wants to roll himself in the nearest pool of mud," Rhett chided. "You'll have more success bothering me."

She rolled her eyes.

"Else you'll bother me ."

"Oh, you like it. Or, I dare say, you love it."

"I don't dislike it."

"Oh, a step at last!" He cried with satisfaction. "We had made such a splendid advancement! I was beginning to think you were taking a step back."

They crossed a pond, and passed a group of people, a gently born family without a doubt, that saluted them politely.

Rhett bowed slightly, then smirked when they went out of sight.

"Have you looked at these hypocrites, Scarlett? They will welcome you with courteous smile, offer you hospitality and if needed. But once your back is turned, they will talk about you. Pity you. Mock you. Poor dear, they'll say. It will make them feel better, to know they're doing 'all they can' to make you good. But if you don't bow to them, they'll turn against you. You will never be enough, but you can always be so much worse."

She rolled her eyes.

"So, I suppose it's easier to do your worst, I suppose. You're never surprised."

"I'd rather call it not swinging to their strings. Take your happiness by both hands, and to hell with the others. What do you say, Scarlett ?"

"I'd say it's tempting."

Her feet trampled on the ground, undecided, strands of grass teasing the skin. They had arrived to the spot they had decided on. The leather of her mules scratched her skin, and she had to bit back a groan of pain.

"But not convinced yet. It is your inner philosophy, but still you do not dare to go out of the ranks."

"You're repeating yourself, it's almost boring," She warned, threatening to yawn, before settling on the grass, gathering her skirts around her, and Wade closer to her. "I've gone out of the ranks. For you."

His eyes shined as he lazily sat by her side.

"And I shall cherish the memory. But I still think it quite short-sighted my dear, and I'll continue to bore you until you finally admit it. This society will go to shreds soon. So why not dance on its ruins ? I crave to make you dance again."

A cough was heard on the other side, but he held still.

"Have you developed such clairvoyant powers, now ?"

"Oh, I may have. I see you one day coming to me with bright eyes and…"

"That shall not happen, you cad."

"Is that a flush on your skin, dear ?"

"The sun is hot", she said stubbornly, slapping his hand away.

"I find that endearing. It makes me remember how you were as a girl," He grazed the line of her cheekbone with his knuckles. She lowered her eyes, faltering under his tenderness, her mouth trembling but a little. She crouched over Wade, resting her mouth on the top of his head. Yet, her eyes were too expressive and he chortled. "Don't hide in the boy's hair, Scarlett. No, darling. I would not have kissed fourteen-year-old you. Don't insist. I'm not one to desire a child."

The blush became a glaring flare, and as she turned her head toward him, the back of his hand fell softly from her cheek to the hollow of her nape.

"I do not think that, bully!"

It lingered there, the tip of the fingers drawing circles. She shivered. His eyes darkened.

"You do!"

"You preferred to send others to do so."

Both jumped at the intervention. Randa batted her eyelashes innocently, before raising and making a show of putting one part of chicken on her plate, before finally deciding to take shelter under a nearby tree. "I have to protect my freckles, you see," She added mischievously.

And on the other side, the raven-haired woman furrowed her brows and pouted, so very irritated by that behavior that did not suit her intent at all.

Damn Randa, she was actually no help at all!

Rhett turned his attention back to Scarlett, smoothing the lines of irritation around his mouth in favor of amusement.

"You little devil. So, you did mess with boys, in fact."

Her chin lifted a little.

"A kiss. Maybe two. You did tell me that experience enhances the mind."

"Indeed. And I do intend to take advantage of that experience."

Her cheeks reddened and she prevented herself from attacking him. Her fingers gripped her skirts fiercely, craving to dig into his skin.

"Had you expected me to be jealous, darling? How disappointed you must be..."

"You're so crude... A bully, a cad..."

"And you're still so easy to tease, my dear. Those were the kisses of a girl. I want the kisses of a woman."

He plucked a finger to tease her neck, and with a startle, her head curved brusquely, trapping the hand between jaw and shoulder. The hand relaxed, soft and tender, and it caressed the skin it could reach, grazing slowly the path between her clavicula and the lobe of her ear. She shivered

"Funny that when one tries to protect oneself, they in fact expose themselves."

She caught her breath, mesmerized by the raw feeling in his eyes.

"You too. You are exposed…"

Her lids fluttered for a moment, troubled, eyes went down for so little a second before plunging back in again in.

He cleared his throat.

"You have no need for boys, Scarlett", his voice was throaty and deep.

She gasped, then looked away. The moment was gone, or at least she had let it go with the fear of being let down. Not yet, her heart begged. Not yet! Not until he said it!

On the grass, Wade quietly stared in wonder at the herb in his hand, smelling it before popping it in his mouth. She looked down in horror.

"No, Wade, sweetheart, don't!"

She brought him back to her, but the deed was done, and he was laughing in her arms, happy of his mischief, and the obvious amusement it brought his father. She sighed.

"No. This one is all I need."

"The little prince. You do spoil him."

"He's my boy."

"Yours indeed. You do have a tendency to hoard fiercely what you consider yours. It almost makes me jealous."

"Are you?"

"By God, no! But I do believe the little scoundrel should not be petted too much, for that's what he is, a little scoundrel. Not a prince."

"God's nightgown, he's no prince, I know that! He's too cheeky for that."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"And what do you mean?"

Say it, say it...!

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

He said nothing to that, yet his eyes talked for him. For once.

You dear fool, she thought with tender realization. You ARE jealous, after all.

She loved him, and he wanted her. No, loved her! He could not say it quite yet because... Well, whatever reasons men could have for not telling their sweethearts so. But he did! The thought made her giddy and warm. How could he look at her that way and not love her?

She wanted to believe it. She needed to.

Longing pierced her heart.

I want to go home. I want to go home with you….

She squared her shoulders. He looked at her with curiosity.

"I see you are preparing for battle. I'm curious to see what it is about."

"Rhett… I'll have something to tell you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why not now ?"

"You're never satisfied, aren't you, Rhett?"

"Not when I know there's more to have."

In his eyes, she thought she saw the mirror of her own pain, and it was as if the battle was over before it even began.

Yes, he loved her. She felt sure of it Yet, as she saw it, there wasn't just the surge of victory that came to her, that of conquering just as she wanted to, to make him as mad of her as she was of him. There was also that fire of hope that was blazing in her heart, that made her feel dizzy and strangely apprehensive. It flickered in her body, begging, raging to be let free, and she knew it could just burn her all over far better than it could burn him. Her whole nature cried to take the leap, but she had learned to act differently with him. Nature and learning fought to take control, and she had to admit now with a frightening moment of clearness, that she was becoming quite afraid of herself.

She had prepared for the fight, but not for the peace. The weapons, and most importantly, the shield she had held all the way, were heavy in her hands and she was threatening to fall from the weight of them.

She bit her lip and said nothing, letting the cold shiver take over. Her heart was hammering awfully in her chest. Her feverish eyes went swiftly to Randa, who was leaning against the tree, her plate already emptied, and pretended to be very absorbed in the shape of the clouds. Rhett shook his head, suddenly remembering the third wheel he could have done without.

"Alright, my darling little coward," He growled, visibly discontent at making this concession, and yet making it all the same to his befuddlement. "Tomorrow."

Scarlett finally let out a tiny smile, and Randa snorted loudly. And this somehow gave her the strength to retort.

"You're one to talk, bully!" She said, though her voice was trembling. Her hands clasped around Wade, and she rested her chin on the soft tuft of black hair. It smelled so sweet she smiled.

Tomorrow, I'll be brave, she thought. Tomorrow, I'll tell you what I feel. I'll find the right words, I'll make it right.

But for now, she would take advantage of the beauty of the day. She would be a coward and enjoy that truce between them, so close to what could be, and yet not close enough.

The sun's warm breath caressed her face, and she closed her eyes, savoring it.

Yes tomorrow, it will be so different.

Would he like her harmless?

Now, that was another terrifying question.

"Well, I'm quite bored!" She finally exclaimed, willingly dismissing all in a rapid heartbeat. "I've told Melly I would get her some flowers, and I will."

She kissed her boy and gave him to Randa. She stared for a moment, unsettled, before Randa smiled to her with a condescending air telling her 'I told you so', and gathered Wade against her body. Scarlett ignored the implication and exhaled, relieved. Yet, as she raised and took a few steps, one of her feet slipped from its mule. She stared at it in dismay and leaned slightly to put it back. Yet, Rhett was swifter than she, and with a lazy, boyish grin, he caught it, and held it by the fingers, clearly intending to keep it.

She raised a brow, and the grin widened. She realized.

He had known all along she wanted to take them off.

Her eyes softened, lashes shadowing her cheeks in an attempt at hiding it. Something lifted from her chest, and she breathed a little easier.

She shrugged and let go of the other shoe.

Rhett gave her a handkerchief as she gathered the flowers, and she was surprised he was following her so silently, with a little distance that made her feel like he intended to respect her decision. A softness settled in her chest, an airy sensation of peace and belonging she had not felt for a long time. Perhaps when she was a girl, and Rhett took her into his arms, leading her home. She felt safe, secure, and cared for, just like she wanted to be cared for.

On this summer day, all seemed fine, and she could feel hope's harvest in her heart, telling her she was on the right path.