Not what you have expected of me, but this what-if has been wandering in my head and I thought I should give it a try!

Enjoy!

"You'll have your baby, Scarlett, if I have to handcuff you to my wrist for the next nine months."

"Seven," she said crossly.

"Seven?"

"Seven more months to go, not nine," she clarified.

"Far be it from me to prolong your torture more than necessary," he laughed.

It was meant to be a sarcastic remark, but something about his laugh puzzled her. In a moment of rare clarity, it stroke her that it was far too joyous for a man who had just proclaimed he didn't want children. She sat up on his lap and stared into his face with frank curiosity. Under her gaze it was suddenly smooth and bland as though wiped clear by magic. His eyebrows were up and the corner of his mouth was down. His eyes were calm too, the familiar and yet unaccountable tiny flame flickering in their depths. Why, he looked almost as if he was happy with the news.

"You actually want it, don't you?" she said unable to hide the genuine surprise from her voice.

He gave her a level look trying to decide if he could salvage the situation. But it was a statement rather than a question and he knew it would be hard to disorientate her.

"Don't act so surprised, Scarlett," he sighed. "I have told you before that I like babies."

"Well, yes, but I didn't think you wanted your own," she rebutted.

"I didn't plan on having one any time soon, that's for sure," he said calmly. "Apparently I was wrong."

"You should have said so."

"You stormed into the room, literally spat on my face that you are pregnant as if a deadly illness has befallen you and then you said you wanted to kill the baby and possibly kill yourself in the process. Did you expect me to act joyful about it?" he was angry again.

His blunt recount of her actions shocked her more than the actions themselves and she dropped her eyes mortified. He put his hand under her chin and jerked her face up to his.

"You have forsaken this dreadful plan of yours, haven't you?" his eyebrows knit in concern.

She nodded. "I… I was in despair… I wasn't thinking clearly…" she mumbled.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That was the closer to an apology he could get from her. And it was good enough for the time being.

She stood up to leave, but pause at the door way. "Why do you want it, Rhett?" she asked over her shoulder.

Maybe –just maybe- if she could understand his reasons, she would be able to find a way to bear through it.

"Novel experiences have always charmed me, Scarlett," he made casual answer. "That's why I married you in the first place."

From that day on a shift of attitude took place, so sudden that she was left disorientated. The sharp quarrels that used to spring up between them ever since they had moved to the Peachtree mansion stopped. Gone along were the barbs, the nastiness and the cutting opinions that could madden her in the blink of an eye. And just like that, as unexpectedly as he had disappeared, the honeymoon Rhett returned. The indulging and entertaining Rhett who had made her believe that marriage could be a lot of fun. With his pampering and his gifts, with his endless efforts to foresee her wishes and please her, with his ribald stories and anecdotes and his sudden fancies to play. At first she regarded his change distrustfully. Her short-term experience in living with him had taught her that compliments were always two-edged and his tenderest expressions open to suspicion. So, she was keeping herself alert waiting for his jeering self to strike. But he never did. Even when her mood swings were getting out of hand and she was spoiling for a fight to vent her frustration, he wouldn't give in like he used to. On the contrary, he was treating her with all the patience in the world, like he was treating Wade and Ella. And if he couldn't smooth her feathers, he was getting out of her way until her tantrum had passed. Week after week the amiability they used to have in the early days of their marriage was reestablished and it was as pleasant as it was perplexing.

Rhett, still being Rhett however, never did anything without waiting for something in return. Two conditions he set early on. Condition number one, she was forbidden to wear a corset. No matter how much she had yelled and grumbled and cursed, he was unyielding. The one time she ignored his absurd request, he literally tore it off her and threaten to burn them all if she dared to do it again.

The second condition was far more infuriating. He insisted on driving her to and from the mills every day.

"Just because I'm with your child, doesn't mean I need supervision. I can take care of myself," she protested angrily.

The last thing she wanted was Rhett spoiling any precious time she had with Ashley.

"I don't want to supervise you, Scarlett," he said patiently. "I'm not going to wait for you outside either. Let me know how much time you need and I'll be there to pick you up when you are done."

"What's the point then? We have a driver for that."

"I don't trust anyone driving you around in your condition other than me," he said matter-of-factly.

It'd been years since they had last done that. Back then when she was pregnant with Ella. It felt weird at first. Knowing that now it was his child she was carrying. And yet, it was familiar and comforting at the same time. For, strangely enough, he had been at his best behavior then, as he was now. Attentive and ready to listen. She didn't know why, but during these rides she had her friend Rhett back. And very slowly, without realizing how it had happened, the time they spent to and from the mills became more alluring than the actual visits and she found herself waiting eagerly for him to pick her up.

It was one of those days, a couple of months later, that she came to understand the true reason behind his actions. She hadn't let him be anywhere near her expanding middle until then and the few times he had tried to touch her she had jerked away from him. But as they were driving back from the mills, the baby moved for the first time.

"Stop the carriage," she said quickly.

He stopped the horse and turned to her, concern written all over his face.

"What's the matter? Are you alright?"

She took his hand under the lap-robe and placed it on her abdomen. Then he felt the faint movement and his expression was that of a totally surprised man. His eyes grew wide open and an even wider grin spread on his face. And maybe it was her idea, but she thought his hand was trembling.

"Has it done it before?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"No, that was the first."

"Can I… again… when it…" for the first time since she knew him, Rhett couldn't form a proper sentence and that was unnerving.

"Alright," she nodded uncomfortably.

They sat silently for a while waiting for something more to happen, but it didn't.

"Is it the baby or the process that you dislike so much, Scarlett?"

The question took her aback for she had never given the matter any serious thought. In her head, it didn't make any difference. Baby and pregnancy were inseparable. But when she raised her head to him, he was looking at her –the alert, eager, waiting look out in the open. Apparently it made a difference to him.

"The process," she said uneasily.

He said nothing more. He picked up the chains and clucked to the horse. And just like that one of her strongest convictions about the mysterious husband of hers crumbled to the ground. Rhett Butler, the most self-sufficient and self-centered man on the planet, had finally wanted something and so he cared about it. His baby. Everything he had been doing over the last months he was doing it for the baby. His reasons were immaterial to her, she told herself. And she tried really hard to push back the heavy disappointment that weighed down in her heart following that understanding.

That night, like every other night, they climbed upstairs to their bedroom, he unbuttoned her dress and he lay on the bed lighting up a cigar, wearing only his trousers. He had always enjoyed watching her in the past. He would help her undress and untie her corset, he would be the one to brush her hair before bed. But over the last three months this ritual had become some kind of a show for him. His gaze wasn't as intense at first, but it was getting more and more with every passing week. She was still uncomfortable with any amount of exposed skin in his presence and the way he was looking at her made her blush to the roots of her hair. It was one thing him actually helping her undress and another him lying there doing practically nothing but staring. She didn't need much help now any way, since she wasn't wearing a corset. On top of that, he had asked her not to rid of her clothes in the dressing room, but do so in front of him. She couldn't understand why. She was showing greatly and she hated her body like that.

But that night she had no tolerance for his inspection. For this was her first day of her forced confinement due to her pregnancy and she didn't like it one bit already. She was frustrated and depressed and the minor annoyances she had so far were intensifying in her head. God, how she hated being pregnant. And the last thing she wanted was being observed. So, with her hands holding the unbuttoned dress in place, she made a move towards the dressing room.

"Stay, Scarlett," came his drawling request.

"Not tonight, Rhett. I'm not in the mood," she said curtly.

"Scarlett," the silent plead in his voice startled her.

"I don't understand what you find in this," she let the dress fall to her feet resigned.

"Then you have absolutely no idea how beautiful you are," he said quietly.

It was meant as a compliment, but it cut like an insult.

"Beautiful?" she flared. "You think this," she waved her hands up and down her body, " is beautiful? This is ugly. It's gross," she spat.

He took a sharp breath, taken aback by the obvious disgust on her face. Then he sighed and went to her.

"I can try to explain what I mean if you'll let me," he put his hands on her shoulders, a look of terrible patience in his dark eyes.

"Go ahead," she mocked. "I'm quite curious to know."

He gently pulled her by the hand into the dressing room and had her stand in front of the full-length mirror.

"No," she turned her face away from her image. "I don't want to look at me."

"Just close your eyes for one moment and calm down, will you?"

"Fine," she obeyed.

He began to stroke her arms tenderly and his touch alone had a soothing effect on her temper. Her face relaxed, her jaw line fell into its proper position, her heartbeat decelerated.

"Now, open your eyes and look at you," he whispered in her ear.

"Do I have to?" she pouted.

"Open your eyes, Scarlett," he chuckled.

And when she finally did, he began to enumerate all the details he had noticed after three months of constant watching.

"Look at your skin. Do you see how smooth it is?" he caressed her shoulders. "Look at your face. Over the last few months, it glows, Scarlett. It literally glows. And your eyes are brighter too. You look so healthy and strong. You are radiant."

"I feel miserable. I'm fat and it's only going to get worse."

"No," he shook his head. "You are nor fat, you are curvy. And that's immensely sensual," he pulled up her chemise and revealed her expanding middle. "Look at it, Scarlett. Round and firm. It's the perfect shape."

He rested both hands on it. He never did that on impulse. Only when she would allow him. She looked at them. They were so big they covered her belly almost completely. And they were rubbing it so lovingly. She wondered, not without the faintest of guilt, how many more times he had wanted to do it but didn't. The baby kicked and she placed hers own on top of his.

"I think it likes that," she said softly. "Maybe you should do it more often," she offered.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I don't mind it," she smiled.

He buried his lips in her neck. "Any discomfort you may have," he whispered. "Tell me about it and I will do anything in my power to make it go away. Anything, Scarlett."

His breath was sending sweet shivers across her body, spreading goose bumps all over her skin. She rested her head on his shoulder sighing. She felt his hands travelling from her belly to her breasts.

"They are heavier," he murmured. "Do they hurt?"

She hummed an answer, her breath too shallow to utter a proper word.

"Does this make you feel better?" he caressed them gently.

Another hum, even more quiet. Instinctively she turned her face to him seeking for his mouth. The tenderness of his kiss left her limp. He had never kissed her like this before. His fingers were now caressing her face as lovingly as her belly a few minutes ago. The realization flashed in her mind, the parallelism too obvious to let it pass unnoticed. If he cared about the baby so much, then… Then he must care about her too. No, her pragmatism rebelled. He couldn't. She was his pet. He had told her so numerous times. She was his pet. The word stung, it always had, even if she had chosen to ignore it. Her anger was building up again and she opened her eyes. Unaware of her own thoughts, he had his closed, the lines of his forehead relaxed as if he was enjoying this. He must have felt her body stiffening though for eventually he opened them. And she was taken aback. His mask was off, she could tell. He was looking at her and there was a softness in his gaze, a warmness she hadn't seen in it again. There was a name for it, she knew it, but she was too dazzled to find it.

"What else hurts?" he murmured and his voice bore the same tenderness.

Affection. Like one human being to another. The word hit. It registered. She let it sink in her, allowed for it to smooth off the rough edges around her heart.

"My back will soon," she said throatily.

"Where?" he placed his hands at her lower back. "There?"

She nodded stupidly. His palm rubbed the spot with slow circular movements.

"Will this help?"

"I think so," she breathed.

"What else?"

"I won't be able to sleep well at night," she was beginning to actually enjoy this game.

"Will this be any good?" he showered her face with small soft kisses while running his fingers through her curls.

"It might," a faint smile flickered on her lips.

"Should we go and find out?"

"We could," she giggled shyly.

With an effortless move he lifted her in his arms.

She had very faint recollections of what took place from that moment after. Maybe it was the hormones already running wild. Maybe it was his handling her, so very different from any other time. Whichever it was to blame, she could do nothing but feel, all five senses keen and alert. His huge body leaning over her, his warm mouth on her skin, his hands roaming about her rich curves, the harshness of the thick hair of his chest on her tender bosom, the worship in his touch on her abdomen, his hoarse voice near her ear, the smell of his sweat. Above all though, was the overwhelming desire to taste him and touch him back. The novelty of this need puzzled her, for she had never wanted anything but get it over with and quickly. Whether he sensed it too, she couldn't know. The last thing she remembered was the palpable certainty of being cherished. Deep, humid, misty darkness followed. And for the first time after many years, she wasn't afraid of the fog.

"Darling," his voice was warm, but distant.

She wanted to open her eyes, but found it too hard and she resigned. She felt the mattress shifting as he raised himself to his elbow.

"Darling," his voice came closer.

She didn't answer. She wanted to hear the word again.

"Scarlett," it was full of concern now.

"Yes," she smiled keeping her lids shut and she heard as much as felt his sigh.

"Please look at me," his hands cupped her cheek tenderly.

She did so very slowly. He was inches away from her, his brows knit in worry, his gaze flickering quickly over her face for any sign of discomfort.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"

"No," she smiled again. "But you made the baby restless. Is there anything you can do about that?"

"Let me see to it," he laughed softly, his eyes bright.

He placed his hand on her middle and began to caress it.

"You really think the baby likes this?" he asked huskily.

"I don't know," she sighed and cuddled closer to his warm body. "But I do."

She instantly fell asleep.

Kind of fluffy, wasn't it? Well, I only gave them what they were asking for! Helping them see what's under their noses, that is! :-)

I was reading through their honeymoon and the very first months of their marriage and for the first time it stroke that, after New Orleans, he never really gave her an actual chance! His bland and jeering self was there from day one! I was shocked! For the life of me, I hadn't realized it before! So, that's where this one-shot came from...

How do you find it? Share your thoughts with me! You know that you make me happy!

Until next time, take care! xxx