Hello everyone, and thank you for your patience and support! Your words warmed my heart, and keep me writing :)

Here's chapter 38. I hope you will find it was worth the wait!

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The sun burned through the glass of the window. For a time, they had opened it, but the noise in the street had been even more unbearable. Wade had seemed to like it, that sound of the wave of war coming back, a regain of energy after a time of lethargy and attempt at denial. Life was coming back, but in saccades like blood in a wounded heart. All felt heavier, more intense, and the wait was felt even more. Tokens of love were pressed on the chest with acute longing. Mothers sew the homespun, for those who were there. Those who were not. Those who would never come back.

Scarlett did not feel any of this. Her man and her boy were safe, her friends close, and she intended to keep it that way. Sure, there would not be any more light flirting with the soldiers, these little pert, teasing words that made them smile and she with them, followed by a gaze of appreciation, sometimes of attachment. Scarlett had liked these gazes, she could admit it to herself. Life was hard enough, and these proofs of appreciation smoothed the moments of doubts, when she felt corseted too tight and on an even tighter watch. They were gifts telling her she was still charming and worthy, more than just a little widow fated to be forgotten in her late husband's shadow.

Charles had not wanted her to be so. She thought she knew him enough to know that. He had wanted to help her. Yet, wasn't a wife supposed to be a shadow anyway? A shadow under which her husband could rest and be praised for its comfort, while also having the luxury to leave the shades to enjoy a little bit of sun?

Now she was engaged. She was engaged, and almost had been on a verge of losing her reputation. But still, the corset was laced and she felt it. The watch had not lessened. She knew that, that particular gaze was not pleasant and prickled the skin.

Yet, it was not the only thing that prickled her skin, and the morning found her day-dreaming and vacant, her usually vivid eyes staring at a distance and her chin resting on her tiny hand as she pondered what was on her mind.

How was it supposed to be, to be Rhett's wife?

That question had come and gone, it seemed, throughout her life, fleeting, teasing, yet without substance.

On a short moment, oh just a short, she had thought, at the first bloom of her love, it meant happiness and hope, if only he could be hers and love her. However, the doubt had crept swiftly into the bud, and now she could not really remember if the scent of her love had ever had any pure sweetness, that was not tainted by that little bitter feeling.

On the morrow after that fateful day when she had pledged herself to him, she was in a state between shock and befuddlement, not quite in the first, and barely awakening to the second, like a nap that had gone too long. Her cheeks were cold, and as she blinked the dizziness away, her body straightened, her shoulders shaking a little, as if to give herself a remonstrance. She smiled a little, a tight little smile that had its hint of frustration.

God's nightgown, she wasn't about to lose her wits for the likes of him!

She sat now, hands clasped on her lap, watching Wade as he played with his soldiers noisily, his mouth pursed to produce a sound that looked more like a gremlin's laughter than a cry of war.

He did not make stories, that boy of her. He delighted in explosion and chaos. And as he crunched his brows, his dark eyes lit eagerly, she was suddenly reminiscing her father, so boisterous and larger-than-life.

Had Rhett ever been that kind of boy? She tried to remember if he had said anything about it. He had let her know so very few things about him!

Seule une femme amoureuse veut voir le secret du gamin derriere l'homme qui a son coeur.

She shook her head. She had no need of her facetious grandfather's attempts at witticism. But the fact that he had hit the nail on the head quite unsettled her about what she thought she could hide. For indeed, if she could not hide her feelings in writing, they must be more obvious in public than what she would like them to be.

"Thank God, you are still here!" Melanie startled her in her thought. With a wide smile, she took her place at her side. "I did not remember when you had to leave for the hospital, my dear."

Melanie did not remember a lot of things these days, with her wedding coming, Scarlett meanly, enviously thought. She put her arm around her waist and smiled, embracing her for a moment, before finally taking her distance and attempting to compose herself.

"Darling, I have to say…" Melanie said nervously, her cheeks pinkened with effort to control the blossoming enthusiasm that made her brown eyes shine like a pool after the rain, once the sun came out. The first words were said softly, almost a whisper, but as she saw Scarlett's arched brow, they become hurried and a little high-pitched. She snapped her eyes shut in that childlike way that had the cheeks go up in the same way the brows go down, the lids becoming almost a unique but large wrinkle on an otherwise juvenile face. "Though maybe you won't like me saying so, as it could be deemed an interference and I don't want…"

Scarlett rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Melanie. Go to the point."

She opened one eyes to measure the situation, before allowing herself to let it out.

"I'm so happy for you and Captain Butler!" The cry came from the heart, spontaneous and eager, and the words were hurriedly, messily uttered, but certainly joyfully uttered. "I'm so happy, and I can't help but think it was fate that pushed the two of you together and that everything is going to be well..."

Scarlett laughed.

"Oh, Melanie, I knew you would say that."

Melanie's heart-shaped faced tinted with delicate pink behind her lowered eyes.

"Sometimes, Melanie, I do believe you're overdoing it. I'm not such an ogre that you have to react in such a way."

Melanie smiled sheepishly.

"Edward says it too. Not that I'm acting as if he was an ogre," She added as she saw Scarlett's delicate half-raised brow. "No, he says I tend to do everything to avoid conflict, even to the point of acting sick or fragile."

"That's not a very nice thing to say."

"It's the truth," she said simply. "To you, I can admit it. I hate when people quarrel !"

This was said with the utmost sincerity, and an intensity that was unusual in such a frail girl. Her little hands were clasped in fervor.

"I hate it, because then they always want me to pick a side, and they're not letting me choose! And that makes me so unhappy!"

"But don't you hate it when people try to coddle you?"

"I'm used to it. And they mean well."

"I would scream if people acted the way they do with you, for me!"

"And that's why I liked you first. It's refreshing to have someone who does not try to be sweet just for my sake."

Scarlett stared at her blankly.

"And now I really think I am an ogre."

Melly laughed, and her lady's hand, light and fresh, patted her own and squeezed the fingers with fondness.

"No, you're not. You're my dearest sister. And I love that I can call you sister, for with you I feel stronger. Without you, I would never have met Edward. I wouldn't have found the strength to stand on my own and change what I was taught to consider as certainly the best thing that life could give me."

A huff came out of the raven-haired woman, her own hand the picture of her own conflict between letting herself be petted and pushing away the pestering touch. A teasing smile came to her lips, glint coming to the eyes that looked askance as she replied:

"Melanie, you always talk as if you never had any beau, when I heard Mrs. Elsing's Fanny say…"

"Oh, they were nice, wanting me not to feel left out. They never were serious."

This was said with simplicity and Scarlett knew she believed it to be true. Most certainly, she thought, Melanie had believed it so much that it had never fed her vanity, rather starved it, and she had indulged them, yet without taking any pleasure of it for herself more than having done a good deed.

That she had opened herself to someone that had not been chosen for her was extraordinary indeed, especially when considering the lack of support of her nearest family. Yet, it indicated a strength of character that her appearance did not hint at.

Her hand tenderly clung to Scarlett's, the thumb caressing a knuckle as Melly's loving face turned to her.

"Oh, how freeing it is, to love someone with whom you can be yourself, without having to worry if they will accept you! That's why I think you and Captain Butler will be happy. I see it. When you're with him, you cannot help yourself. You're always yourself. High-spirited. Fierce. Strong."

"Am I? Yes, I suppose I cannot help it," Scarlett accepted it as the truth. To her deepest regret, he always managed to trigger the fire in her. Her eyes darkened. "But sometimes, I swear I could crown him!"

Melanie giggled, yet Scarlett did not join in. A long sigh escaped her lips, bombing her cheeks with the frustration that remained.

"It's not the same for him. I shall never know what he truly thinks nor who he really is."

"I wouldn't be that sure about that. I think Captain Butler feels the same. But he's afraid you don't, so he hides. And it's been that way for so long!"

Scarlett eyed her friend dubiously. One year older than her, and Melanie sometimes seemed to her like the younger one, as naïve and trusting as Carreen, who, despite catching on and on illnesses each time she went to the hospital to help, still went with even more enthusiasm when she recovered.

"Melanie. I think you read too many novels."

"Oh, Scarlett!"

Melanie's giggle turned to laughter, to Scarlett's dismay. She crossed her arms and waited; her mouth pulled up in a pout. It died with a tender smile and lashes fluttering lightly as she tried to regain her composure. Melanie's hand came to her heart.

"But, Scarlett…" She paused, sobered. "Be cautious. There are mean people, who say…"

Her expression went fierce, her lip curling with distaste as her generally gentle brown eyes darkened. For a moment, Scarlett wondered if her brother had worn a similar expression. Gentle, idealistic and loyal they were, the Hamilton siblings. They lived in a world where innocence had to be protected, and where willfulness was romanticized as were all the things that were foreign to them.

"I shan't let them talk, Scarlett. I won't allow any mean talk in front of me, when you haven't done anything wrong."

"Melly, I know people talk. I'm not a goose," Scarlett chided. "Although I appreciate the sentiment, it is useless on me."

"Well, I am happy," Melanie repeated. Before hesitating once again. "Yet…"

"What is it again?"

"Well, it's nothing… But if you could lead him to do more gesture toward our poor soldiers, and prove these infamous rumors about him speculating…"

"Hasn't our contribution been proved enough?"

Melanie's thumbs twiddled as she pondered her answer.

"Absolutely not, it seems. It is never enough," Scarlett said bitterly, not waiting for her to utter an answer she already knew. She now hated to admit it, even in her thoughts, but Rhett was right about that.

"Mrs. Elsing is wary. But she means well! I mean, I think so,"

"Melanie. One day, my father told me no wife ever changed a husband. I would be a fool to try to make Rhett do something that he doesn't want," Scarlett softly explained. "But I'll try. If only so you would stop fidgeting like that."

This seemed to appease Melanie's concern, for she let out a little smile, her chest falling slowly as she pressed Scarlett's fingers with her own.

"Oh, and Mrs. Meade is very worried. About you, I mean."

"About me?"

"She fears you've taken into mischief. Of course, I told her it wasn't so, but I don't think she listened to me."

"She's not the only one to say I'm taken into mischief," Scarlett sighed. "I've just received letters of my aunts, telling me they are ashamed of my conduct. A bit too late now, don't you think? They don't know yet. But then, they say, it must be because of 'that Rhett Butler who's always up to mischief, and oh, Scarlett, you have to tell him not to come, for he is highly unsuitable! Don't marry him! Oh, no, marry him, you must! Oh, to die would be fairer! Oh, your poor mother, your poor mother !'"

Her antics brought a very wide smile on Melanie's face, and a giggle that jingled like little bells across the room.

"I suppose it is a bit too late for that."

"They wear me out," Scarlett complained. "They are such bores!"

"Oh, Scarlett, you shouldn't say so!"

"Even when the war was only at the beginning, they were bores, and Grand-Père says so. I remember once Eulalie's husband tried to show me how Charleston's gentry was the purest race in the world!"

She let out a fond smile.

"Yet, Grand-Père cut him quick that day, saying if he thought so, then why was he trying to link his own family ties to some French family, who, from the meaning of their name, would have more to do with mills than with gentility?"

Her chest heaved with pride, and pression released suddenly in a sigh.

"Ah. It feels good to talk about it. To remember it. I don't have any news of Grand-Père yet."

"No news, good news, isn't it?"

Her last letter had not received a reply yet, and she was to send another, announcing him her engagement. Yet, that one was not easy to make, for she could see clearly the delight of her grandfather telling her he had been right all along, and she could not bear any teasing from him when everything seemed so unclear.

"Certainly," She replied. "Grand-Père was a soldier of Napoléon, after all!"

Melanie lowered her timid eyes.

"Oh, he is quite terrific indeed."

"That he is."

Uncle Peter opened the door softly, a frown and a flush on his face that told all of the ambivalence of his sentiments.

"Miz, it's dat Cap'n Butler dat come."

She blinked.

"Yes, let him, uncle. Thank you."

Melanie's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I leave you to him, darling."

"Melly!" Scarlett hissed. "Come back here, you minx!"

But before she could catch the helm of her dress, the impertinent creature had disappeared, taking Wade with her and leaving her indeed in a presence of Rhett, impeccable as always, his hat in his arm.

"Who's a minx?" He said with his deep, drawling voice. "Certainly not Miss Melly, my dear. Such a term usually applies to you. Good morning, Scarlett."

She pouted, yet allowed him to take her hand for a light kiss, cursing her fingers for trembling slightly at the expectancy of the gesture. She tried to retort, but his grin made it difficult to utter anything else but a weak "I did not expect you."

His eyes gleamed pleasantly.

"You did not expect your fiancé? It's a pity, because I've been pretty much expecting you to wait for me."

"Oh, just tell me what you're here for. I have many things to do, you know."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure our brave soldiers certainly can't wait a minute longer for their favorite nurse," He drawled pleasantly. "So, I'd be quick, respecting your role as busy woman."

She stared, unsure if he was serious or not, and he grinned wolfishly. Her eyes narrowed.

He was unbelievable!

She squared her shoulders, and unwrinkled with precision her heavy taffetas skirt, her head wagging softly right and left, before coming back in place. Her underlip was upturned, lids lowered so as not to meet his eyes and break her composure.

No, she would not react. He expected that, and she was certainly not to give him that pleasure.

For a moment, she did not hear the sound of his footsteps. Then, one, two, and several brought him close to her, and she felt his presence looming over her, powerful and warm, with the scent of his prized cigars mixed with the muskiness of the natural smell, a scent she had linked with love, tickling her nose.

He laid down papers on the side table with a purposeful rustle of the pages. The flutter of it sent the scent of fresh ink to her nose, making her nose wiggle lightly with dismay.

"What is that?"

"Exactly what you think it is."

Her eyes widened, her body straightening on her seat.

"You actually…"

He dismissed the beginning of her accusation with a flick of the hand.

"For show, Scarlett. Do what you want with them. It was never meant to serve anyway."

She pursed her lip.

"And I suppose you say that to preserve any hope for marital harmony?"

"You know me too well."

She found nothing more to say, so to calm her fidgeting fingers and clarify her mind, she made a point to read, until the reading engrossed her whole, filled with the curiosity of what he intended to do to threaten her.

"Minutes are ticking, dear. Or do you finally have time for me?"

"I see you made time to make this tricky thing, and was very impatient to show it to me. The courteous thing to do would be to pay close attention."

"Indeed," He quipped. "Very courteous of you."

He saw with eagerness her lids widened at some part, a frown knitting between her brows, and green, deep green glaring at the paper.

"La, you really made a point of turning the sentences around, in attempt to lose me."

His mouth opened, revealing teeth.

"Need a hand?"

"No," She said tartly. "This looks very legal and acceptable. I'm sure many would just accept it as it is, with so many references."

"But you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't have. You know I wouldn't have," She replied simply. "But Wade has the Hamilton name, with very Hamilton links. And with the war, how could a reprobate like you try to throw shade on a poor war widow, and that of her brave belated husband?"

"Quite a performance you would do, indeed. But it would have served its purpose. The doubt would have been sowed."

She sighed.

"And I suppose the events of the previous days just prove how fragile my position is."

He put his hand on hers.

"It'll fade, Scarlett. And anyway, a good reputation is overrated, especially in these times of war. What can they do to us?"

"I don't know exactly right now. But I'd prefer not to find out when it's too late."

"Who are you and what have you done to my Scarlett?"

She slapped his hand.

"Hush, varmint. That's the practical thing to think. Now, please, do hush. I'm serious! I'm trying to read," She chided, before coming back to her reading. "You even added conditions in the little lines…"

"I knew you would read them!" He exclaimed with pleasure.

"In the event that I should not be agreeable, I should offer some compensations," She turned toward him, perplexed. "What kind?"

"Read on," He insisted.

So she did.

"A thousand dollars?" She choked. "And how do you think I could afford to give that much money?"

"Darling, you did donate quite the amount of money in my stead. Did you seriously ask yourself if I could afford it?"

She dismissed it. "Of course, you can afford it, Rhett. I'm not a goose. You wouldn't be such a devil to the other men if you couldn't afford it. Proof was that you did follow me in that game."

He let out a bark of laughter.

"My dear, I can't fool you. You have the makings of a true woman of business."

Color flared on her skin.

"I'm a lady."

"I'm complimenting you, darling. You've got a brain and sharp eyes, and I like it tremendously when you're using them."

"Humpf!" She turned her head away, tilting it further toward the papers, which crunched delightfully in her grip. Her cheeks were puffed out for lack of repartee, whose flow had been cut down by his words. Yet, she still tried. "And you employed a lawyer to write such a thing? My, you have no shame at all."

"One lives more freely without shame."

"What I see is that you wanted to laugh at me," She grumbled.

"Laughter can soften many things."

"You always have answer to everything, don't you, Rhett?"

"I find it very useful," He replied smoothly, one corner of his lip curling. "Dare I hope you're finally on a free time and I can persuade you to a little outing?"

"You wish!"

"A pity. Going from one closed place to another must be quite terrible for you. Or aren't you quite finished with the papers?"

Her eyes flashed as she pushed the papers back to her laps. Her eyes glinted with mischief.

"Oh, that?"

"You don't read it to the end?"

She should have, he thought, but then she would have been a very different person if she had, his turbulent and impatient darling and he had counted on that. Yet, it did not erase the slight disappointment he felt, sprinkling over the deep relief. For if she had read the last lines, he would have been done for. Even her mind, that disliked the requirement of deep analysis, would understand what was lingering between the lines.

"I don't need to," she replied with the same honeyed smile.

And with this, with a swift and wrathfully controlled gesture, she raised up, facing him with her pointed chin lift up, and tore them down.

Yet, the disappointment disappeared entirely as he saw her as she shot him down with these eyes of hers, glorious green sparkling with the satisfaction of a cat having caught its prey.

"I shall tear into pieces all the mean papers you try throw on me."

His black orbs gleamed hungrily as she held her head high, so very charming and defiant, the very epitome of life holding her own against whatever may come at her.

"Oh, don't tempt me. You know, your eyes look like two precious gems when you're up to destroy something, much darker than when you're simply pleased by something, and your cheeks like reddened apples. One could be very much tempted to take a bite and taste them."

She raised an arched brow. The lids lowered in an attempt to show contempt, but the green underneath was flashing through the long lashes.

"I do not care about your taste."

"You should, as it concerns you. I like to think I have a certain taste."

She was too piqued to see the compliment underlying in these words, however offending it might be. She huffed.

"That remains to be seen in… certain domains."

His arms crossed over his chest, and the fabric seemed to stick to his body so subtly Scarlett could not help looking at it askance, tiny pieces of memories glittering treacherously in her mind. She shivered, her thighs pressed against one another. He tilted his head, looking at her with a curious gaze.

"You do seem to come quite often to the subject, and once again without getting into it, which is rather insulting. One has to eat somewhere."

Her eyes flicked at him, directly this time.

"Isn't it the husband that should bring the bread?"

"Am I to understand you intend to have us starving at your table? Not to mention, my dear, I don't intend to let us live on bread only."

Her cheeks flushed with a furious red that tickled her cheeks meanly.

"Darling!" He smiled widely and cupped her face, kissing lightly her brow as he chuckled. "So grown up and fierce, and yet still these endearing moments of innocence!"

She weakly pushed him away, her cheeks burning, so very baffled by his words and behavior.

This was not the Rhett of yesterday, who glowered at her and demanded submission. No, no urgency in that one. It was still not the Rhett who wanted to use her for his ridiculous bet, with his lessons tainted with little bits of cruelty and rare flattery followed by demands she kept improving, nor the Rhett who pushed her to the limits. This one looked more like the Rhett who had played with her and really enjoyed being with her, and his apparition, subtle, rare even, ever since they met again, completely disarmed her, her knees trembling as if she were about to faint.

She tried to look away, but even then, her voice failed her, barely concealing the slight mixture of bafflement and spontaneous thrill that were already too much vulnerability for her to show to him. It went up her throat, bubbling up awkwardly toward her mouth, begging to be let out. Her upper lip trembled a little, shaken by a sensation that was as exciting and forbidden as was a stolen kiss. The lids lowered, a poor attempt to hide the trouble underneath, but the swift movement of lashes came to contradict them.

"How you do run on! Only you would bring up such a thing as food to talk about.. this!"

His grin widened.

"Oh, but you were the one to begin it, my sweet."

They stared at one another, until she snorted. From that unladylike snort was spilled a growing laughter that shook her body as she tried to stifle her voice, and he joined it openly, a pleased gleam in his dark eyes as he watched her doubling in it, so taken by it she held out her hand to him and held him with strength, as if letting go would make her crumble to pieces.

And he certainly did not want that. He certainly did not want to let go of that hand.

Finally, she raised her eyes full of joyous tears, her fingers trying to catch those who had escaped the bars of her long lashes in an endearing childish gesture that went to his heart.

"Oh, Rhett, we should stop! We talk like children!"

"With the play and understanding of adults, I hope. I do believe it's the best combination. We shall never be bored, then."

He caressed the corner of her lids with his thumbs, catching the tears that remained on her tilted lashes and she kept still, her eyes widening, the pupils shrinking. He tickled slightly the little part where her dimples dug on her cheeks, until she smiled and they appeared, to his satisfaction.

His mouth curled up.

"See, I'm not that cruel of a man."

She chortled.

"No. You're worse."

"But not the worst, certainly."

She nodded fervently.

"The absolute worst," she said, and she was shocked to realize the wave of tenderness that was overflowing behind these words.

She had to keep a grip.

She turned away suddenly, raising from her chair, trying to still the beating of her heart, as she went behind the piece of furniture, a poor protection between her and Rhett. She could not hide from him, nor from herself. She was all nerves, all feelings and buckling knees, while he seemed so impenetrable and smart. He was earthy as much as he was windy. How many times had she wanted to catch him, only to see him slip through her fingers with that jeer of his? How much power he had over her!

Her fingers trembled over the back of the chair, until she decided to put them on it completely, to tighten each knuckle on it.

She examined him, undecided. Ever since their betrothal, there was something lighter in him, and she felt it too.

It was too soon to think much of it, but she certainly liked it when they weren't at each other's throat.

"So… how are we supposed to make this work?"

His brow raised up.

"My dear, at this precise moment, I do not see the problem."

A small wrinkle gathered between her brows.

One moment could be good, she thought. But with him, she was not quite sure it would last. With him, it could change so swiftly !

She tried to find the words to express all the questions she had, but they all evaporated into nothingness as she opened her mouth.

"I don't even know your middle name," she finally said pitifully. "Nor your father's real names, for all that matters…"

"Oh, but I'm sure you do. Everyone does, though the veil of doubt was left purposefully lingering. My father's names are Langford Langston. Or the contrary if you want to irritate him."

She stared at him, bewildered, while he grinned.

"My grandfather was a reprobate trickster, and very determinate to laugh of his very serious son. He made sure every document about his first-born should be misleading in such a way. Have I ever told you it almost prevented my honorable father to claim his inheritance? A true story, I assure you!"

Her upper lip twitched, until she couldn't help the peal of deep laughter that boiled from her chest, took over her throat, until it spilled in and over her mouth, this time unrestrained.

"Oh, Rhett! That's so terribly wicked and twisted!"

His grin grew larger, happy to have succeeded yet again. He took a step forward, looming over her.

His eyes twinkled gaily as he quietly added with mischief.

"So it is," Said he. "As for my middle name, I do believe it is good to keep a little bit of secret between us, don't you think?"

"A little is quite a world with you!"

"Oh, be gracious, woman" he exclaimed, gathering her swiftly in his arms, and her heart thudded strongly as their chests collided. "you know more than I'm comfortable with!"

He looked down at her, so close she felt the warmth of his breath, smelled the heady scent of his favorite cigar. Her lids dropped slightly as her whole being was leaning to catch the multiple beloved layers of him.

"I do remember you saying you would not laugh anymore," he mused with a soft, husky voice. "And believe me, i do intend to make you laugh quite often. Twice now, it happened. For me, it is a good start. These dimples and perfect teeth aren't meant for nothing, nor is that little soprano voice that breaks a little when the laughter is true. The water of these eyes cannot be dull, there are treasures underneath. They're meant to be shown and to shine."

She stared, her heart hiccupping. Her chest warmed quickly, reaching her head until she felt like she was standing on her toes. He seemed so earnest and intense!

"I do remember as well that you once said you'd marry me. You certainly have been more clairvoyant than me for that part."

And he, what had he said? What had he said? It seemed to her he had said something in reply, something that would help her out of that daze she was in.

"And to which church should it be?"

What do you believe in, Rhett?

He drew back slightly.

"It is of no consequence for me. My belief is in myself, and I'm my own church," He said smoothly. "But it is for you, I see. Still cloaked in the veneration of one powerful man, Scarlett? You surprise me. How about changing religion? Mine won't expect you to wear black and to be like anyone else, though it won't tolerate you hiding behind icons."

She rolled her eyes.

"Fiddle-dee-dee, Rhett, stop your silliness. Of course, we need a church. I've never heard of a marriage without a church."

He nodded with amusement, as if she had confirmed something he had thought.

"I see. So, it is the cloak of conventions, then. To which church did you marry, my dear?"

"Oh, Charles chose the church."

"Episcopal, most likely. The Hamiltons are too modest to be at ease with the luxury Catholics adore having in their church. My family was Episcopalian as well. Though for other reasons."

"I suppose you would like an Episcopal church, then."

He grinned.

"Darling, you're not listening. Why would I want that? After all, Catholicism is much, much older, much… gaudier, as my illustrious father would say."

At this, her brow raised a little, and she wondered why she was so surprised over it, when it went with the idea she had of him.

"So, you would marry in a Catholic church out of spite ?"

He put his hand on his heart as if she had deeply offended him, but she saw the glint in her eyes telling her he was very much enjoying it.

"Spite? No, I do not hold any bitterness against the old man. However, there is a certain irony that pleases me quite a lot," He jibed lightly, before continuing on a softer tone. "Besides I am sure your father and mother would find some relief in thinking that while marrying me, you're returning to your roots. And that is important to you, isn't it?"

It was, and she realized it as soon as he said it.

He could be so thoughtful, sometimes...

His fingers followed the slightly imperfect curve of her face, smoothing over the edges of her square jaw, and she stayed still, subjugated.

"Perhaps it won't be that bad to be with me."

She trembled. Oh, this was the cruelest thing of all!

"Oh, I fear the worst," she said automatically.

He smiled, and it almost looked like hope. But as she stared back at him, almost timidly, fearing the moment would not last, his mouth went down just a little.

"If you keep being agreeable like that, I really think we shall get on well indeed, he said with a little pique.

She lowered her head swiftly, her nose almost hiding in his neckcloth, and he chuckled, the sudden stiffness of his body lightening.

"God, you're headstrong!"

He let her go.

"You can go to Tara to announce it. I'm sure you would like to."

Her heart stopped for a moment, as she refrained turning her head toward him.

"That is… very generous of you. You don't think I will escape?"

She ventured an eye out, to his face, and was once again caught.

"I'm trusting that you won't."

How soft his eyes as he said it ! The darkness was tender, with a glistening warmth that made her want to lean in and rest her head on his chest once again.

She shook her head.

No, that was too good to be true! Certainly, it had to hide something. There must be something sneaky about it, something that would make her cry later…

She narrowed her eyes.

"I suppose you won't come with me then."

He seemed to hesitate. His whole body straightened.

"I doubt anyone would be disappointed by my not coming to the farm."

Farm? Was it all it was, for him, a farm? After all this time?

She pursed her lips, trying to hide her dismay, and crossed her arms.

"You're a snob. But you're right. No one will be disappointed."

That was petty and untrue, but her own disappointment made it so. How Pa would have been happy about his coming!

Now that was a mean thing to do!

But he saw through it. She saw a glint of white teeth beneath his twitching lips.

"It all seems alright, then."

"Yes, perfectly."

"Sometimes, my dear, it amazes me how stubborn you can be. If you so want me to go with you, you just have to ask."

Her eyes narrowed to slits, her nostrils flaring.

He wanted her to beg. Of course, he would, the mean thing!

"Oh, you are insufferable!"

She raised her hands, her gunpowder temper exploding as he turned away with a laugh and took his leave.

.

.

.

When she came to the hospital that day, few people gave her belated congratulations, though it was with either suspicion or pity tainting the words, and lowering the lids.

She accepted it graciously, discreetly, as a lady would, and continued as if nothing was unusual. The way to the hospital had been quieter, uneventful, and she had to wonder at the changing nature of people's mind, either clinging to malice, or making it seem like nothing had happened.

The only person she did not mind doing as if nothing had happened was Melanie's fiancé, as it was obvious he was too concentrated to think of anything else than his own wedding that would very soon take place, and the operations he had to partake with Dr. Meade. She wondered how he could be so jovial, when that day brought other wounded, and with them members to be amputated.

At the end of her shift, she almost nagged as Edward Goldin quietly tended her a love letter with pink on his cheeks, to deliver to his fiancée.

She would remember hours after to do this peculiar task. However, this time, it wasn't because of any jealousy pushing her to put the task farther in her mind, but rather because of the apparition of a masculine silhouette she knew all too well.

Forgetting for a moment Suellen and Uncle Peter who were sure to be waiting for her, she swiftly followed him, until his walk led him to a narrow street. Fearing she might lose him, she called him.

"Captain Ashburn… May I have a moment of your time?"

The gentleman stopped, for a moment not facing her, until he turned, his mouth closed, yet eyes pained, and for a moment, she was struck by how that quiet despair suited him.

He was handsome, that suitor of hers. Too polished and mealy-mouthed to rouse her, but her practiced eye appreciated the supple strength of the muscles of his arms, and the sharpness of his jaw, the way it did not like the condescending mildness of his tone, and the awkwardness of his flexing fingers.

He straightened considerably as he saw her coming to him, a poor attempt to appear cold and indifferent, but that had more the effect of making him look like a martyr.

"What is it you want to ask me, madam?"

She dropped her eyes, and her voice came, softly at the tip of her lips, her brows arching in a way she knew would give her a tragic air.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

She bit her lip, a little irritated that she should have to explain, when in reality she thought she had done nothing to warrant it.

"Did you really lead me on?"

Color raised highly on her cheek, and she bit her lip.

"No. You did try to tell me. " he continued, without waiting for her reaction. She swiftly looked up, and saw him gaze absently behind her, to nothingness, she realized as she looked back. "And I, the fool, I wouldn't listen."

Oh, yes, he was a fool. This did not warrant such act of tragedy, with that slow, drawling and lifeless tone he now took with her!

"I've seen you look at him," He suddenly said. "You love him, don't you?"

She startled, surprised to find some sharpness in his eye, showing this time the injured pride he had attempted to hide.

"Yes, it was as clear as day. I thought, when you defended him over and over…"

"I did not!"

"You stood next to him against the crowd, and I thought it was out of your gentle heart, and to honor your late husband. I've been quite a fool, haven't I? He quite seduced you. That man!"

"You're unfair!"

"And here you defend him again," He cried. "I would have jumped to the moon if only I had received such a look. A brief, yet telling look."

She pursed her lips, trying to remember every sign that could have led him to that conclusion.

Had it really been that obvious?

She lowered her gaze.

"Why did you kiss me?" Captain Ashburn suddenly asked.

She stared back, dumbfounded. Why would he ask?

"An impulse, maybe," He continued, coming back to his thoughts. "From that delightful spirit of yours, that is meant to give and please, and I… certainly was an ardent lover. Or perhaps was it a last call for help, until he took over all your mind, and I did not realize it. If I had, perhaps…"

Fiddle-dee-dee, he makes the questions and the replies, and do not even wait for me to properly reply, she thought with a slight irritation.

Had he been that talkative when he was courting her? Perhaps, but that talk had been aimed to please, and now she realized she did not even like his voice.

To this, she had a ready reply, led by his own way of thinking.

"I would have wanted to love you. You are a good man."

"So what stopped you?"

Well, if he pushed her to be honest...

"We would not have suited, sir, and even good men have their limits. I have seen how ill at ease you were. I have seen the way you acted around Wade. This, mister, a mother cannot simply dismiss in the same way a simple county belle would have. You need a woman without such ties, that would be happy to live under your wing, and would exhibit propriety in all that she does. I'm afraid I cannot be that. Believe me when I say I had not intended to lead you on, nor to distress you into offering something you clearly were not ready for."

Dismay marred his features.

"Have I been that obvious?"

She arched a brow and he stared at her, confounded, until a tiny light of recognition appeared in his eyes. He paused for a moment, looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time, before shaking his head, his eyes gleaming with great condescension.

"Forgive me. I suppose I've been a little bit presumptuous, talking in such a way, and you did not like it. I see it in your eyes."

She tilted her head.

"You don't hate me?"

"You're so full of … that impulsive charm, made to please men, and I led you to it. I shall thank you for this kiss. It is a beautiful memory for a soldier going back to war."

Again, with the mention of her impulsive charm. He had dismissed what she said, in order to reassure himself over his injured pride.

Well, she could allow him that.

She elbowed him playfully, relaxed by the change of tone.

"Oh, Fi, Captain Ashburn! You shall not die in war. I'd be terribly cross with you if you do. Not to mention you would be responsible for many a heartbreak, and I shall not have it on my conscience! So please don't," Her eyes glittered with mischief. "After all, what then shall I say to India Wilkes, that dear friend of mine you quite bewitched on our last reunion?"

Now, that would be a good idea, if only to distract India from her mean feelings toward her. Randa would certainly scowl at this, saying men should not be the center of women's universe. But Scarlett knew India the way only enemies could, and deep down, underneath that thick and cool armor of propriety and prejudice and spite (at least toward her), there was a woman that was still hoping to have a love story from these romance novels she read, where the virtuous lady gets rewarded for her constancy by the love of an illustrious man. Such thing was pitiful to Scarlett's mind, but she could afford that kind of loss, if it lessened the acrimony.

Captain Ashburn was welcome to her, and perhaps, could better her.

She could almost hear Randa's voice berating her once again. She smiled.

He let out a peal of laughter.

"There is no other woman like you. I wish you every happiness in the world, Mrs. Hamilton," He said fondly. "I mean it. You're marrying a man without a heart, but still I shall pray for you. Please take care of your surroundings."

He tipped his hat at her and smiled, and she felt the relief of one thing nicely, properly done this time.

He could keep his prayers, though.

"Ain't he right?" A feminine voice purred; "You should take better care, girl. Ye never know when one's goin' to snitch on you."

She stared at that handsome woman, with her hair and clothes too bright and her bold face.

Belle Watling, looking at her like a cat having eaten the canary, and with a mean eagerness to face her that could only mean...

"It was you!" She realized. "The rumors, the scandals, you... Have you been snitching on me?" The humor of it suddenly came with the image of the red-haired woman, with her flamboyant dress, hiding behind bushes to watch her. She snorted. "Oh, the ludicrous thing!"

And a very obvious thing, now that she thought of it. The woman had means, and words could travel fast in the kind of establishment she ruled over.

"Gud, not me!" Belle protested, so very offended her words splattered in an attempt at justification that was not to serve her. "But little boys tend to wander as they want 'tside..."

"A little boy," Scarlett repeated.

Yes, she thought she remembered a light paddling in the night. She was never to have peace and quiet, it seemed.

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, what a storm in a cup. It is very unflattering to have you lurking like my own very shadow, you know."

"Don't you play the goose wit' me, girl! I know what you at."

"Whatever you say."

Scarlett was about to turn on her heels. However, this was stopped by the desperate grasp of her elbow, which violently made her turn back. Her face distorted in a snarl as she contemplated violence.

"I love him." Belle shot, and it was certainly the one thing that could work.

Then, we are two, Scarlett thought, though I don't think the comparison suits me. What else was there? Couldn't she just let go? The feeling of that dry, mean hand on her was too much to be borne!

"You ain't having him," Belle said quickly. "You can't. You ain't deservin' of him, when he done everything for you. Leave him to me. You'll only break his heart. He ain't accepted, like me, for he is larger than life and adventurous, and he don't play by the rules. You don't want any adventures, you're just like the rest of them judgin' him. You can have your choice of men, men that treat you like a lady, and you'll be accepted anywhere if you chose any of them. But with him, you ain't have that chance. I know that Captain will take you back if you say so!"

But I want Rhett, Scarlett added in her mind. I've always wanted him. Loved him. And then, that woman does not know me, if she thinks I am truly accepted, and that Rhett and I wouldn't be able to go back together if we truly want to.

She sighed in irritation and slapped the hand that was on her.

"You don't know Rhett that much, do you? Neither do you know the way of our world," She hissed. "Rhett will do whatever Rhett wants to do. Tell him not to do one thing, and he'll be sure to do it if it suits him."

And if she drew back now, her reputation would be lost forever.

"But you could…"

"I did," She shrugged, stifling a mean, crazy laugh. "Yet it seems there is something very contrarious indeed in him. The more I refuse him, the more he relents."

"Maybe 'cause he knows you want him."

Denial was useless, she knew, and admitting to it was certainly what could hurt the most that woman.

"Maybe. You know what's the saddest thing? By all your spite to me, you're taking away my choice to say no."

"Of course no."

But the doubt was there, on that pale face whose mouth opened, whose eyes stared, calculating for a moment. Scarlett insisted.

"These rumors me as a whore."

"As you are, and no whore can marry a gentleman."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You're not from our world, are you? I was born a lady, and now I am a mother. If I want to keep my standard, I must marry him. And he's willing. In fact, he announced it to the entire world. If you think I will just draw my word back, if you think I can afford it, you're clearly mistaken."

The madam stepped back, so pale that her rouge seemed almost grotesque on her, almost like a clown's mask. But Scarlett was in no mood to laugh.

In fact, she felt a little sad. Her wrath, in the shadows, seemed quite a vain thing. The woman had already been punished enough, and by her own hand.

"No…"

"That's a tragedy," She idly said. She knew she would be better off leaving like a lady, yet never had been the need to be petty so strong. "You mooning over him while he marries another woman. Aren't you tired of Rhett using you in such a way?

"Are you? I am important to him. But what are you? Ain't nothing but trouble!" Belle barked, cornered. "And anyway, one can be bored with wives, but ain't never with mistresses."

It would have infuriated her once. Yet, she could see that this red creature was cornered, and she was decided not to let herself be touched by her barks.

"Don't make me a villain in your story. I've tried with you, but now…"

"Now?" Belle interrupted, baffled.

"Now, I only feel pity. I love him and you love him, and we are supposed to hate one another, to fight for him. But I've done enough fighting for him. Now, I only want to be my own person. And there's Wade…"

"It is a very lonely place."

"I have friends. I have my family."

"Then you be lucky. Mine disowned me long ago. Just as Rhett's had," Belle's shoulders fell. " It is unfair, ain't it? That you should be born lucky, and I wasn't. No one can use you, you be always protected. No one is indifferent to you."

There was something very sympathetic about Belle at that moment, Scarlett realized, and it took her by surprise that she actually felt it, and allowed herself to unburden herself.

"Sometimes, I would prefer indifference. Once her reputation lost, a lady is nothing anymore. She has disappointed all expectations of her, and she must be punished. She is hated, badmouthed, everything taken from her…"

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You has it coming!"

"Perhaps. But my son shouldn't have to suffer for it. I thought as mothers we could understand it."

"Understand?" Belle repeated dumbly, before scowling. "How could something like you ever understand ? When I be young, I wanted to be a lady. Took time to fix myself, to say "how do you do", when my tongue wanted to say "howdy". But twas never enough. Ain't nobody helpin' me! And t'wouldn't add anything on our plate.

"I am beautiful, when you ain't never be anything more than pretty. I'm good, I know, and you're selfish little thing, a plaything for Rhett. But for you, it'd be always easy peasy. Why when you do something good you're praised, and when it's me, they spat on my face? Why you and not me? You ain't deserving of anything !

"What do a piece like ye understand about the deeds of the poor people? What ye know of hunger and defilement? Ma was sick, and Pa couldn't pay the bills. I was pretty, and a gentleman saw me. He cared for me, gave me money, protection… but when Pa discovered it… he took the money and threw me out. I wasn't pure anymore. I was to have his child, and I did. And I ain't regretting anything! I would do it again ! And now that I be important to someone..."

Scarlett's eyes darted swiftly to her.

How important was that woman for Rhett? The question suddenly came to her, when it could have come earlier with the words thar were supposed to hurt her.

More than the spite of the woman, this had the most potential to hurt her, Scarlett figured. That Rhett was using Belle was obvious, but what was his aim in keeping her? She could not quite see it.

Was it because he was in love with that woman?

Oh, to imagine Rhett, her Rhett, in the arms of that woman! To imagine him having a child with her, caressing that red hair with tenderness, and kissing that creamy brow...

She shook her head. No, she would not think about it.

Yet, she did.

"Was it… was it Rhett?" Scarlett could not help but inquire.

Belle's smile stretched slightly, and she did not answer.

Why didn't she answer?

"You don't understand anything, little girl."

Even a defeated beast could inflict a serious wound, Scarlett reflected. She shouldn't have lowered her guards, even for a moment, as she had.

Belle was right, she thought meanly. No gentleman would marry a whore.

She squared her shoulders.

That woman really wanted to have the last word, but she was not to let her. Her eyes darted swiftly to the creature, the green darkening viciously as the tone of her voice took a honeyed quality.

"Oh, but I'm not a little girl. Do you remember what you once said? I'm the monster Rhett created. And soon enough, I'll lead him to the altar, and he'll say yes to me, a born lady, and there's nothing you can do with that but get these ugly wrinkles of dismay."

After a moment of blank confusion, Belle turned swiftly, her stare full of recognition. Her pulpous lips stayed agape, and this time she reddened, her anger visible. Scarlett made her most gracious curtsey, her brow raising up. She then smiled, a smile full of dimples and teeth. Her eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Don't you forget it."

.

.

.

She was not feeling as daring as she finally went back home, with Uncle Peter and Suellen silent at her side, and quickly leaving her, as if to avoid an inevitable explosion.

Only Melanie, poor soul, raised at her appearance, and chose to stay, her face flushing with alarm.

"Scarlett, you're pale. Please, do sit. Cheyenne! Bring a cup of tea for Miss Scarlett!"

Anxiety boiled through every part of Melanie as she examined her, touched her, and Scarlett was tempted to push her away.

"It's alright, Melanie, please don't," She gave pointed eyes to Cheyenne who was already putting the cup in her hand. "You are too efficient, Cheyenne."

"I sure am," Articulated Cheyenne with a cheeky smile as she went back to the kitchen.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Melanie swiftly regained her place in the conversation. "Please, else I shall not sleep if you don't tell me!"

Scarlett took a sip, red in her mind, red in her eyes. She closed them for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Mr. Annesley and Little Jim had their feet cut today. Their gangrene was too terrible. There's nothing else."

"Our poor soldiers…" Melanie commiserated. "But…"

"I said, there's nothing else, Melly!"

Her voice was sharp and cutting, and she almost berated herself for it, waiting for the sudden shriveling of her frail friend.

That did not come.

"Alright, my darling. But if you want to talk…"

"Melanie!" Came Aunt Pitty's plaintive little voice. "Please, my dear, I feel faint!"

"I am coming, Auntie!" Melanie replied with a clear voice. "Sorry Scarlett…"

Scarlett dismissed that.

"Do go, Melanie. She needs you more than I do."

Concern in her eyes, Melanie kissed her brow, and Scarlett was suddenly remembering her mother, the softness of her hands and kisses. Her shoulders fell with sudden sadness.

"Please, do not overwork yourself. We are here for you, sweetheart. I'll come back to you as soon as I'm done."

With Melanie gone, Scarlett sat for a moment, a hand on her stomach where she felt a little ache. The sound of wheels was still rolling endlessly, seemingly cutting through the glass of the window.

She stood up, and quickly her little feet dragged her to the mirror. There was nothing changed, really, in her figure since last morning, but suddenly, it seemed her bosom wasn't as full as it could be, her waist not as small, nor her skin as fresh as it had been. Not as healthy as that red woman, who had wanted to gloat.

Thank God, she had had the last word! Losing to her would have been unbearable.

"Mama?"

With just that cry, so came back everything, and her skirts whirled swiftly. She opened her arms to Wade, her hands betraying the despair in her heart she was trying to contain, and settled on the couch.

"My, you're quite docile today," She muttered.

She kissed him on the brow, cutting his protestation, before sighing.

"I did know it would be like that, didn't I? I had it coming, and I made my choice."

He did not say anything, only looking at her with perplexity. She held him for a few minutes, lightly swaying them back and forth.

"Never grow old, Wade," she mumbled. "When you grow old, you realize you would have been better without knowing."

He looked at her curiously, and that's when she realized these words had a bitter tone in them that was not quite hers, and that made her feel older than her years.

These were more like Rhett's words.

She scowled.

"Great balls of fire, he won't make me like him! I won't let him!"

However, it did not seem to satisfy Wade that much, for he took advantage of her distraction to slip away from her embrace.

Oh, she should not have weakened this morning ! But he had been so pleasant and tender, and she couldn't resist him when he was like that.

Lies, all lies, she told herself furiously. If he cared about her, he would have given up on the connection entirely!

She would be the one to get the last laugh!

With a swift step, she settled at desk and draw a piece of paper, scribbling furiously.

If marriage was such a transaction, he wouldn't be surprised to get the contract and the bills, would he? She would not let him expect to have his law bowed and applied to, just like that !

She would speak his language.

Do not mention Belle first, she thought. Do not, or else he would think she was jealous and tease her about it. Neither at the beginning, nor at the end.

And then, she added, if she did this, he would dismiss the rest.

What was it, that Melanie had insisted on?

Oh, yes, that would definitely taunt him, to have to provide for a war he criticized so openly, he who still took an eager advantage of it!

The lines describing the conditions of the soldiers were easy to make, for they were not her own. Though horrified and angry by their wounds, she felt she could feel no true pity for them, as they had chosen to do so.

But just as she was mentioning the child, she stopped and stared with wide eyes. Her shoulders touched the back of the chair, and she felt so very old and bitter.

Had she been about to make a father give up on his child ?

They deserve that, came the mean thought. Rhett and that Belle, who had no beauty to justify that name, and that she wanted to scratch until her skin was as red as her hair.

However, just as soon as that thought came, so was her realization of the violence of it and it made her pause.

This was not what she wanted to be. It would perhaps be satisfying, yes, so very, she thought, but there would be a price to pay. There was always a price to pay when Rhett was involved.

And would it make her happy ? She truly doubted it.

She crossed the sentence and stared, putting down her pen. She was so deep in her thought she did not even hear the door open.

"Hello again, Scarlett."

She startled, only to see Rhett's smiling face.

Dear God, she thought. Was everyone to come and go in the house like in a windmill?

"Oh," She said feebly. "I did not hear you coming. I was…"

"Dreaming, Scarlett? Well, you don't need to. I'm here now."

The paper crunched under her fingers.

"And you're a dream, alright," She muttered, her heart jumping. "Fiddle-dee-dee!"

One look and it was the end of her. Because looking at him, she felt her will weaken, and her head throbbing. She stiffened, her body leaning unconsciously toward the heavy rosewood desk, as if trying to keep it out of sight.

Which undoubtedly attracted his attention.

"What is it, that you're doing so seriously?"

Nervosity grizzled over her ears, erasing any rational thought.

"I believe, Captain Butler, you should go. I have a headache…"

He stared at her strangely, his expression closing.

"A headache? Yes, I've heard you tend to use that excuse quite often," he quipped, and after a moment, "And that use of "Captain Butler"... Well, at least, it's not 'master', so I suppose it's an improvement. But I dare say I'm disappointed. I thought we had come to an understanding."

She looked away.

"I'm not in the mood to try to understand you, Mr. Butler. Don't pretend you do."

"Oh, that's quite the diversity. Soon, you'll be calling me 'king'. However, before that, I would prefer you to call me Rhett."

The remark was intentionally flippant, presumptuous enough to make her smile at another time, perhaps draw a little titter out of her. Yet, only a flush appeared, and her eyes narrowed substantially.

"I said I am in no mood for you, Mr. Butler," She said with a clipped tongue.

"So then I was right. You're still very angry," He stated, eyeing her from head to toe with his piercing, searching eyes. "But the wind shifted so quickly I cannot help but wonder at it."

She turned her head away, not dignify him with her reply.

"Alright then. I shall not trouble your changeable spirits."

Her eyes popped open wide as she heard him turn back, as quietly as if nothing had happened. Her heart gave a sharp wince. No! No! She could not let him go like that! She could not let it end like this, with so much uncertainty!

No, she had to make her point, or else, he would go on and on, stamping over her, and she would not be licked by the likes of him!

She lifted her head, her chin trembling.

"But… but I might be more agreeable if…"

He turned, his eyes searching.

"There. Now, spill it out."

For a moment, she struggled, and her fingers were useless on her rosewood as she bent on it, scratching so painfully she thought she would leave marks.

"Scarlett…"

The sound of her name in these red, virile lips was more that she could bear. It was soft, seemingly tender, almost fragile, like a plea. Her heart beat swiftly, sending hot blood to her head.

"What is this?"

She turned her head away and pushed the papers in his direction.

"Oh, just sign it! "

It was after a little time she could not help being curious, and she tilted her head slightly back, just enough to spy it on the corner of her eyes.

He was staring at it with wide, dumbfounded eyes, until his brows knitted together, his jaw set in a mean sneer. He did not blink, nor did his eyes ever seem to move over the paper.

"I see. That's quite pretty long list of conditions you mean to impose on me."

He took a last, fleeting glance at it. He had not read it all, she had seen. His eyes had certainly not gone beyond the third line of her wishes.

His eyes raised to her, piercing and sharp. But on his lips came a jeer.

She waited anxiously for his next move, feeling her a heart beating at the tip of her lips.

"My dear, I'm disappointed," He said silkily. "Know this, and take care to remember it. When you're talking business, you have to pick the right time, and have something more to offer than what had been settled previously. You have neither the first, who's passed, nor the last."

She started.

"This shall be your reply, just like you did so eagerly this morning."

He ripped it to pieces, and they flew like big snowflakes around the room. However, the most terrible thing was the sound of the ripping, swift and painful like a stab in the belly.

"I wish you a nice evening," he said, straightening his vest.

He bowed elegantly, dramatically, his black eyes gleaming meanly, and she thought she saw a hint of youth there, telling her "go ahead now, ban me from your life. I dare you".

She stared numbly at the fallings pieces as he turned away, fists clenched, the muscles of his shoulders so visibly tense under his clothes.

She did not see him leave, nor Melanie come with a weary, but happy face, her shoulders slightly crouched with the fatigue of having taken care of all the beloved patients she had kept in the house, pleading softly with those who could try to get out of bed, mainly Careen, and watching over their temperature and pulse with her fresh fingers.

"Oh," exclaimed Melanie. "Who threw such a beautiful rose?"

Scarlett's eyes darted from the fallen pieces to Melanie as she delicately took the disregarded flower that had been thrown to the paper basket.

Who could have thrown that, indeed? It could not have been Rhett, for she would have noticed, if he had intended to give her something nice.

No, it must have been something else.

The petals were scarlet red, not yet entirely open to the world, yet its scent, now that it was discovered, was overwhelming by its power.

"It smells so sweet," Melanie whispered, leaning into it, until she felt a painful sting on her finger. "Ouch! It still has thorns!"

She blinked the daze away and scowled.

"Do throw it away, Melanie. It hurts, and far too quickly, it will fade. We have no need of such things here," She said, before softening her composure "Oh, but then, I had almost forgotten to give it to you! Look, I have something more interesting for you. Your Mr. Goldin transmitted it to me."

The piece of paper was taken with trembling pleasure, and untucked.

Melanie's eyes gleamed, an eager flush sprinting her cheeks as she read the note and smiled widely. For a moment, she raised her eyes, a little guiltily at having shown any improper feeling, but as they met Scarlett's, her composure relaxed.

"I love him so, Scarlett!" She cried . "I love him so that I feel my heart is going to leave my body!"

It was contagious, that bliss that danced in these eyes, and Scarlett felt it with a little envy, a little jealousy. Her lips curled at the corner in an attempt to smile back, but her own eyes had a yearning tinge in them, the remain of the child she had been, screaming she wanted happiness too, so why couldn't she grasp it?

But she was no child anymore. She could not, for she knew it was a weakness Rhett would delight playing on. That was her failure, she decided.

If her union with Rhett was bound to have some misery if she allowed herself to hope, to care for him, for what he was doing and how he was treating her, Melanie's union had to be happy, if only for Scarlett's sake. Theirs would be the reminder she would keep that harmony and happiness could be found in love, and she dearly needed such a reminder.

Charles had wanted her to promise Melanie would be married to Ashley, though she had cut him before he said the name. But he hadn't seen how that boy, Edward, looked at her, and respected her. What mattered if he were suspected of having trifled with a girl before? Men were allowed their adventures the way women weren't, she reflected with a bitterness that had lessened with time, it was the world they lived in. That Edward at least seemed truly in love with her. She would not be stopped by this, nor any petty jealousy she had felt. What mattered most was that at least Melanie would be happy.

That would be the most selfless thing I do, she thought. She swore on it with the solemnity of an oath as she put her hand on Melanie's. Her eyes were intense, and it startled her friend for a moment, until the squeeze was returned, with as much fervor.

...

...

...

Did you think it was going to be easy? Oh no, not for Rhett and Scarlett!

Next chapter, the bells will be ringing and... Is that Scarlett and Randa's voices we're hearing? Let's take a closer look...

"I won't let you tell her."

"Then I'll tell him! I'll tell him, and if he has an ounce of honor… "

Well, that's very dramatic. Must be quite private. Perhaps we should stop eavesdropping?