My final chapter, before I retire from GWTW fandom (for at least a good break). I am trying to write my own stuff but hate leaving unfinished work.

This is for Wiolka and for the wonderful stalwarts that have chivvied me along during my time on this board – Lawdy, Dixie, Noagnes and Ondine.

There is one swear word – again spoken by Belle. Apologies if I offend anyone.

Chapter 15

"Did you hear that the Butlers are having another baby?"

Rhett flinched ever so slightly but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the stack of cards in front of him as he dealt. It was nearly six o'clock and he had been coerced into playing blackjack with Grayson Brown Bullock, the older brother of the Governor. He had been on his way home from the bank, later than usual, when he had bumped into Bullock outside the saloon and after exchanging a couple of pleasantries, Bullock had cut to the chase and had insisted that Rhett join him for an evening of cards. It was the last thing Rhett had wanted to do – he couldn't stand the man and besides, he had wanted to have supper with his wife – but for once, he hadn't been quick enough to come up with a reasonable sounding excuse.

Twenty minutes after they had settled at a booth and they had played the first round, some of the Old Guard stumbled in and took over an adjacent booth, ignorant as to the identity of their neighbours.

"Scarlett and Captain Butler? They're having another baby?" someone said.

Rhett breathed out, thankful that Grayson Bullock was as deaf as a post and relied on lip reading to converse. He picked up his two cards.

"Well, I heard Scarlett is. It doesn't necessarily mean it's Butler's," William Burr replied. "Emily told me that they haven't shared a bedroom since Bonnie was born. And we all know that Butler's never home in the evening. I don't think he can bear to spend a minute longer than he absolutely has to in Scarlett's presence." There was a pause and Rhett had to exercise every muscle in his body to remain seated. "And then there's that gossip about Ashley. So if I was a betting man…" He allowed his voice to trail off in insinuation and then he sniggered.

"I wouldn't want to be in Ashley's shoes when Butler realises he has been cuckolded," chimed in Hugh Elsing. Rhett would know his nasal tone anywhere.

"Ashley should be leaving town if he doesn't want to find himself at the end of Butler's pistol. Didn't he have plans to go up to Yankee country?"

"That was a while ago. Before Scarlett married poor Frank. Before she gave Ashley the mill. Actually, now I think of it, it all makes sense. Who would have thought-"

"Gentlemen, I am ashamed of you!" said Doctor Meade, imperiously.

"Oh Doctor Meade!" groaned someone – a voice Rhett didn't recognise. "Why are you defending Scarlett? She might be beautiful but she has always been flighty. Frank was hardly dead before she was marrying again."

"I actually have some sympathy for Butler," Hugh said. "She's hard as nails and I don't think has ever loved him."

"No. She's only ever loved his money," William said.

"William!" Doctor Meade scolded. "If you don't-"

"Well, Doctor. Is she? Pregnant that is?" Hugh said. "I have a vested interest. It might mean that she quits interfering with the store for a while if she is."

"Hugh Elsing! I am not about to breach patient confidentiality. You will find out soon enough."

Rhett heard Doctor Meade gulp clumsily, as Bullock picked up a card from the stack and promptly blew his hand.

"Scarlett and Ashley! She always had her claws in him. I heard that she was trying to carry on with him even before he got married. Poor Miss Mel-"

"Simon! You are as bad of some of our ladyfolk around here. I thought you were all better than to listen to what they had to say. Besides, who are we to know what goes on behind closed doors?"

"But Doctor Meade, I didn't hear it from-". Simon Whitley stopped abruptly and out of the corner of his eye, Rhett saw a gnarled, lily-white hand reach for his drink. He had always had a feminine air about him and Rhett imagined that he was blushing, a bright beetroot colour.

"Well, who did you hear it from, Simon?" asked Hugh.

"I can't remember exactly who, now," Simon stuttered.

Lying bastard, Rhett thought, knowing exactly who he had heard it from. For a long time, he had been aware that Simon Whitley frequented Belle's establishment, ever since he had been left a widower shortly after the War had ended.

Rhett placed his three cards down on the table – a perfect twenty-one – and took the dollar bills which were next to the stack. Then, he picked up his whisky. "One more hand, Grayson, and then I have to go back home. My wife will be wondering where I have got to."

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But Rhett didn't go home immediately. After five further rounds of Blackjack, all but one of which he won, and feeling decidedly drunker than he had had any intention of getting at the beginning of the evening, he left the saloon and, instead of turning left to start his walk to Peachtree Street, he turned right, towards Canal Street. He needed to see Belle.

He entered her establishment from the side alley off Ninth Street, using his key, and went straight up the back stairs. He knocked on her door, loudly. There was some movement behind the door and he briefly wondered if she had started entertaining clients again. She had always enjoyed the intimate company of men and since he had told her that he had resumed conjugal relations with Scarlett, he hadn't stepped over her threshold. If she was turning tricks again, then he was pleased. She certainly shouldn't be mooning over an old cad like him, especially now, when that part of their relationship was over forever.

He heard her cough and then clear her throat and then her defiant tread across the room. The door opened.

"Rhett!"

Her eyes widened in surprise or perhaps it was faint horror. Apart from a thin layer of powder, she wore no maquillage. But what was more striking was that she was wearing a head scarf, from which a few wispy, grey hairs had escaped and it sat flatly on her skull. He had always known she wasn't a true redhead. He had met her when she had hair as dark as his but he hadn't realised she was bald. When had that happened?

She touched her head, dragging her hand awkwardly down towards her neck and shoulder. "I thought you were…I was expecting…Irene…" she said, naming the girl who was her closest confidant, the woman whom she had long ago identified as taking over her business when she finally retired.

He stood motionless, studying her for a moment. Her hooded eyes and wan complexion made her look far older than she really was and the powder she wore, settled into the cracks in her face, accentuating the creases rather than softening them.

Finally, she returned his stare, straightening her shoulders and a coy smile slowly creased her lips. "I should have known the reconciliation wouldn't last. You came back. Just as I knew you would."

He smiled, not entirely benevolently.

"On the contrary, Belle," he said coolly. "The reconciliation has gone very well. Much better than I expected. Or you obviously anticipated."

Belle smirked and he thought he saw her eyes mist. But if they did, it was only for a moment. She was an actress first and foremost and a consummate one at that.

"Well, do come in and tell me all about it," she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

She turned round and he followed her, shutting the door quietly behind them. She walked over to the mantelpiece and grabbed a half empty bottle of whisky. She poured a glass. "Drink?"

He didn't really want any more whisky but he also didn't want to offend her. He was about to enter new territory and he really needed to have a clear head to read the situation. Just in case he was wrong with what he was about to accuse her of.

"Yes, please," he said weakly.

She poured another glass and handed one to him and clutched the other with her left hand.

"I hear you went to the country. To visit her family," she spat out, sitting down on a chair. She looked at him, accusingly and it riled him. Why was she being like this? What he did or did not do with his wife was really none of her business. Wasn't it?

"Yes. I spent a week there." He would keep his answers brief and then would ask his own questions outright. He had no time for games.

"A week?" She smiled, mockingly.

"Yes, Belle, a week."

"I didn't have you down as a farmer," she snorted. She circled the rim of the glass with her forefinger and then placed it to her mouth and drained the liquid. Then, she ran her tongue gently around her lips. Once upon a time he had found it erotic, but now there was no stirring. He loved this woman but not in the way she wanted him to.

"Neither did I," he said, as images of the snatched afternoon lovemaking and the languid, deliriously intimate nights flooded his mind. God, it had been like a second honeymoon, despite the location. And now they were going to have a baby!

"Rhett! I don't know what's got into you? Did you hear anything of what I was saying?"

He was brought back to the present and saw that she had allowed her silk wrapper to slip from her shoulder, revealing a flimsy negligee and beneath that, her ample bosom. He inwardly cringed and then averted his gaze to the large window that led onto a small balcony at the front of the property.

"I hear she's having another baby."

He flicked his eyes back to her. He hadn't expected her to raise it so quickly.

"She's pregnant again, isn't she? That's why you've come round."

He cleared his throat. His eyes searched her face. Like his wife, she had never truly mastered the art of indifference. Her face had hardened and her eyes had narrowed. He imagined that if he actually kissed her, he would taste her bitterness.

"Yes," he said, simply.

"So she's not sleeping with you anymore and now you've-"

She stopped abruptly. Maybe she was reading his disdain or maybe she saw the tension he suddenly felt in his shoulders.

He continued to look at her, for a sign that she was pleased for him. For them. But of course, he was fooling himself. She hated Scarlett too much. And that was as much his fault as his wife's. Hadn't he spent hours in here, spouting bile? Lamenting the state of his marriage, the cruelty of his wife, pouring scorn on everything she did? How could he expect Belle to think any differently of Scarlett?

"I know why you're here!" she suddenly exclaimed, a note of victory in her voice. "She wants to get rid of it, like last time. Have you come here to arrange an appointment for her to see Mr Cartwr-"

"Good God, Belle! You know, I would never…not after…not after…" his voice drifted off and he shut his eyes momentarily, trying to block out the image of Isabella Garcia. His aristocratic, Catholic, Spanish lover. Her beautiful face, those brown saucer-like eyes – grey, lifeless, as that incompetent nurse butchered her and ultimately killed her. He shuddered. She still haunted him even though it was over twenty years ago.

He felt Belle place her hand on his arm. "Sorry, darling. I know you hate all of that. But Mr Cartwright. He's a different sort of fella. Not one of my girls has been ill after he's fixed them."

He remained mute.

Then, she leaned into him and whispered, "I can understand how you feel. You don't want to be raising yet another man's child. But there is a way round it."

"Scarlett is never having an abortion. Not over my dead body," he said, ignoring the slur. Then, he levelled his gaze at her. "Besides, she seems…pleased about the baby."

Belle immediately broke into scornful laughter. "Pleased?"

Rhett nodded slowly.

"Well, that's a turn up for the books. Who would have thought it?" she said acidly.

She walked back over to the mantelpiece and re-filled her empty glass with bourbon. Then, she swished the warm liquid round in the cut glass.

"If she's pleased…I guess I was right all along," she said. He saw her eyes twinkle as she swilled the drink in her mouth and swallowed.

A bullet of pain seared his heart. No, she hadn't been right. This child was nothing to do with Wilkes, other than that his birthday party had initiated their reconciliation. No, he had been right. Belle was the one that was spreading the vicious rumours.

He caught her eye and the mirth was still there "I told you that she was only fucking you again because she's carrying Wilkes's child."

He snapped, then. Involuntarily, he threw the glass that was in his hand at the wall, smashing on impact. He grabbed her arms and pulled her head back. "Don't you ever…ever…say that again," he snarled.

"You're hurting me, Rhett."

"I know."

"Stop it."

He shook her arms and then released her.

She stumbled briefly, before she regained her balance. Then, she looked straight at him and he saw an unexpected rim of water round her eyes.

"You know, I never thought…" She paused and swallowed, her voice full of emotion. "I've only ever had your best interests at heart, Rhett. Always. And I can't bear to see how that woman has manipulated you…and used you…and hurt you. And it pains me to see it, to see what she has done to you. To see how successfully she has pulled the wool over your eyes."

He stood still for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "She's pulled no wool over my eyes. I know exactly who she is. What she is. But I love her, Belle. I always have."

"I know," she said simply. "And God, I've spent hours and hours trying to figure it out. Hours! It's never made any sense to me."

"She's making me happy."

She snorted then, and wiped the two tears that had snaked down to her lip with the back of her hand. "Because she's sharing your bed?"

"In part," he said.

"What else is it? She's not even that beautiful."

"She is to me, Belle."

"And what are you going to do when she changes her mind again and decides she doesn't want to know you again? What are you going to do when she has a fit because she's got fat and it's all your fault and you are banished again."

"I don't think it will happen."

"But you don't know."

"No, I don't know. But I'm willing to take that risk."

"And what about Miz Wilkes' husband?"

He shrugged his shoulders. That was the one piece in the jigsaw that, as yet, he had no idea where it would fall. But he was confident enough to believe that, in time, her infatuation with that man would fade.

"She's giving me another child, Belle."

Belle snorted again. He saw her swallow a sob and then she picked up a handkerchief that was on a side table and dabbed her eyes.

"You're damn sure it's yours?"

He nodded. "Belle, I know I have acted as a lovesick fool over Scarlett for years but I know her. The child is mine. She wouldn't be able to keep physical infidelity from me. Her face would betray her. She is a hopeless liar. Besides, Wilkes is too cowardly to actually do anything about Scarlett."

"Well-"

She wobbled slightly and in her semi-naked, bald, state she seemed so small, so vulnerable. Like a broken bird. His earlier ire had reduced. He could be softer on her. He didn't need to berate her for the lies she had been spreading. He was well aware of how she felt about him and it had just manifested itself in an unfortunate way. But it was all fixable.

He walked towards her and put his arms round her. Quickly, she nestled into his chest. "And I need you to do me a favour, darling," he said, softly. "She is carrying my child. And I need Atlanta to know that it is my child. Not Wilkes's. Not anyone else's. But mine. I don't want a child of mine growing up in the full glare of society with the scourge of being thought of as a bastard."

He heard her smirk. "You've changed your tune. You didn't care about George."

He ignored her comment. He wasn't going to fall into that trap again. Not tonight.

"So darling, will you help spread the word? And shoot anyone who says otherwise? Metaphorically of course."

Her head bobbed slowly up and down and then she broke away from him, careening drunkenly towards her chair. She sat down and smiled at him, vacantly, sadly. "I can do that, Rhett. And I'll get my girls to do it, too."

"Thank you, my darling," he said. But he didn't entirely believe her.

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When he finally returned home, he felt drunker than he had in a long time. It was past midnight and he had intended to be home hours ago but Hugh Elsing and John Burr had seen him walk past the saloon and actually gone out into the street and pulled him in, he expected out of misplaced sympathy.

He closed the front door behind him and locked it. The house was quiet and Scarlett was nowhere to be seen. The lights weren't on in the parlour and the candles hadn't been lit in the dining room. His wife must have eaten in their room and was no doubt fast asleep.

He walked slowly up the stairs, feeling slightly guilty at the late hour, tiptoed into their bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. Thankfully, Scarlett had left a side lamp on – or maybe Mammy had. She was always looking out for him, more so since he had retaken his place in the marital bed.

He removed his jacket and put it on a chair. Then, he loosened his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt and walked over to his sleeping beauty. He examined her silhouette. She probably only had a couple of months before she would start to show – maybe earlier – and then he probably only had a further month's grace before she would begin her daily tirades about how it was so unfair that women had to get fat and ugly and tired and how easy it was to be a man. If only she could put aside her vanity and instead marvel at the magic of the female anatomy.

"Where have you been?"

Her words momentarily froze him. She rolled over to face him. Even in the dim light, her eyes sparkled like emeralds. He drank in her loveliness, which had taken on an ethereal quality. Ophelia like.

She pushed herself up onto her left elbow, the sheets barely skimming the top of her waist. Her eyes were boring into him, as though she was searching for something. It was a look he had seen before, many times in the last couple of years. He suspected she was looking for the truth – the truth about what he felt; which he had always been able to mask until a few weeks ago.

"Where have you been, Rhett? I thought you would have been home hours ago."

There were two ways he could play this – and he wasn't going to tell her the truth.

"Fie, Mrs Butler. Have you been missing me?"

"Oh you are so infuriating!" Her face contorted into an ugly scowl. "I have-"

"I had business to do."

"Business?" She evidently didn't believe him but he wasn't going to tell him the truth. A couple of months ago, he would have flaunted where he had been; hell he would have still been there.

"Yes."

"I know you're lying," she said, frigidly.

He caught his breath for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "Believe what you want, Scarlett. I have nothing to hide."

"You…you…." She punched the coverlet and flung herself back down onto the bed.

He suddenly felt very sober. His old self would have just walked away but he couldn't do that now. He couldn't. He couldn't fling a barb, a malicious, hurtful truth at her and storm out and go and spend the night or a few in a hotel. She was carrying his child and…and….he loved her. Besides, something in the tone of her questions indicated she knew exactly what he had done this evening.

He walked sheepishly over to the bed and sat down. She had buried her head in the pillows and her body seemed to be hiccoughing. Was she crying?

He reached out and touched her. Her hair was covering her face and he stroked it away. Immediately, she raised her arm and tried to swat him away, but he caught it.

"Scarlett," he whispered, tenderly. He felt her damp cheek as her body juddered.

"I can't believe you went back to her," she said, through hiccoughs, as he gently released her arm.

"Her?" he said, trying to postpone the inevitable, knowing that he wasn't wholly innocent.

"Yes. That…that…whore."

He breathed out. She knew.

"I'm surprised you didn't stay the night. Or was six hours enough?"

He wanted to laugh but common sense prevailed. His wife's imagination certainly ran wild these days, particularly when she was completely wrong.

He shook his head, silently.

"Don't deny it. Ashley saw you go –"

"Ashley?" he said as he felt a shiver run down him. Suddenly, his minor misdemeanour paled. So his wife was still seeing that man? After all that happened. After all the rumours that had begun to swirl around her. He felt the colour drain from his face as he stared at her.

"Why the hell were you seeing Ashley?" he asked, coldly.

"I have a business with him, Rhett," she snapped.

"And I have a business with Belle," he said, quickly.

She stared at him, incredulously.

"You know that, Scarlett."

"No. No. I…" Her voice trailed off. She sounded wounded. Hadn't he told her? He was sure he had. It was certainly something he hadn't intended to keep from her. Because he had never cared if she knew. In fact, he had wanted her to know. It was a way he could have flaunted his depravity when he wanted to hurt her. "So, you own…" She faded again.

"A brothel? Yes. Well, in part. Belle owns half of it, and I own the other. I'm a silent partner."

"My…husband…owns a brothel," she said. "With that…that…with a prostitute!"

"Her name's Belle, Scarlett. And yes, I own a brothel. Very profitable it's been and Belle has proven to be a good business partner."

"Is that what you are calling her now? Oh dear, God. To think that I…that we…that…after that night, that after Tara, that after I allowed you back into my bedroom…that I was stupid enough to think that that…relationship…was over…"

She started crying then, hysterically. She was muttering and he couldn't discern any of her words except for "baby".

He sat still, as she curled her body away from him. What a stupid fool he had been! Why hadn't he told her why he had really been there? But he knew the answer even as he asked the question of himself. Ashley! If only the name didn't instantly rile him. If only he could be rid of –

"I was waiting for you to come home, Rhett," Scarlett said abruptly, in between her broken sobs. She remained facing away from him. "I've been waiting for hours because I wanted to tell you something. And then Ashley and Uncle Henry came round briefly. Something about the mills and Charlie's businesses – I didn't take anything in after Ashley told me that he had seen you and where he had seen you."

"Scarlett," he cooed, his own guilt deepening and wishing he could turn back the clock and give the honest explanation of his visit to Belle. He placed his left hand gently on her shoulder and when she didn't try and shirk it off, he inched closer towards her, before he swung his legs up on to the bed and closed his arms around her. He felt her relax and, after a while, her hysterics gave way to the odd judder, the odd whimper.

The clock chimed three times. It was inching towards one o'clock.

"Aren't you even curious about what I wanted to tell you?" she sniffed, after the grandfather clock quietened.

"Yes, Scarlett. Of course. I'm always interested in what you have to tell me."

"Well, I saw Ashley this afternoon, too. I didn't seek him out," she added quickly. "Actually, I hadn't intended on leaving the house. I've felt so lousy and I know everyone is gossiping about the paternity of our child. Even though, I have no idea how they know I'm even having another baby! Well, you weren't here and the children were scattered around Atlanta and I wasn't doing any visiting with Melly and I was bored. So I went to the store and then, on the spur of the moment, I drove out to the mills." His body stiffened as he remembered her doing something in a similar state of pregnancy, not so long ago. It was meant to be safer out there but it wasn't something he liked her doing. He was going to have to put a stop to such foolishness. Just as he was going to have to ensure she curbed her drinking. But he could wait to have those arguments with her, tomorrow. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

"And before you say something nasty, Rhett, Melly had told me that Ashley had taken to spending the afternoons, out seeing customers. He's trying to get the contract for the timber for those new houses they are building out near Five Points.

"So I drove out to the mills, looked around a bit before I went in. I had some ledgers that I needed to return and I was curious about some of the prices we were supposed to be getting for some oak! I can't have been in the office for more than twenty minutes and was just about to leave when Ashley walked in. He was as surprised to see me as I was him. I haven't seen him since that supper party Melly threw, shortly after his birthday."

She stopped. Her breathing had become quicker and he could see from the dim light that she was biting her lip. Had she been caught in flagrante again? Did she never learn from her mistakes? He gritted his teeth and allowed the silence, even though he felt rage begin to simmer. He wanted to hear how she justified her actions this time.

She shuffled her body and sat up, facing him, her beguiling eyes focussed solely on him. But she didn't look guilty. She looked as though she was searching for something – reassurance? From him? She took a deep breath and then said quietly, "I don't think I love him anymore."

Her words surprised him. He hadn't been expecting that enunciation. He was temporarily paralysed, both his body and his tongue.

"I said, I don't think I love him anymore. Ashley. I don't-"

"I heard you," he interjected. He scanned her face, checking the veracity of what she was saying.

"Don't look at me like that!" she snapped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

He felt chastened but he was trying to gather his wits. Had she really said that she didn't love Wilkes? True, she had alluded to loving him at Tara and certainly, she had welcomed – yes, welcomed – him back into her bed. And she was pleased about the baby. His baby. But not loving Wilkes?

He felt his heart jump. He glanced down at his hands and saw his hands were clenching the coverlet. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He had to remain cool headed. In case she was tricking him but deep in his bones, he knew she wasn't. She didn't really play games with him.

"What's brought on this realisation?"

He heard her swallow. "I am not sure but all the time he was talking to me at the mills, I was wishing he would stop so that I could leave. And it wasn't just because I was scared that someone would see us and jump to the wrong conclusions. I was thinking of you and our baby and…"

She stopped talking and, without any warning, touched his face. "Rhett, I love you. I love you. I don't want anyone else. I can't stop thinking about you. All day, every day. The last few weeks, I have been so happy. I can't remember being happier. Well, not since I was a little girl. And it must be because of you. Us. What has happened to us. Since that night….since….and when you aren't next to me, I find myself looking at the clock constantly, waiting for you to come back. And this baby! I remember Melly telling me how exciting it is for women to have a baby with the person they love. And now I think I know what she was talking about. It is exciting. It's-"

He had started kissing her, which stopped her monologue. Slowly at first and then with an increasing ferocity. He shifted himself so that he was lying next to her and then he was on top of her. "God, I love you, Scarlett. I can't breathe sometimes because I love you so much." She was kissing him back, her hands tugging at the buttons on his shirt, as he removed her nightgown. Unsheathed, he could see how her body had already begun to change. There was a softness about it and her breasts were already fuller.

His hand skimmed over the tiny swelling in her abdomen. A child of love. Maybe the first of many. He ran his hand over the bump again. She caught it and stared straight into his eyes. "I love you so much, too, Rhett," she said.

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It was two o'clock before she fell asleep. He tossed and turned for a while, contemplating that perhaps he could encourage Scarlett to sell her half of the mills if he offered to sever his business relationship with Belle and then when sleep still eluded him, he slipped out of bed. He wanted to quench his thirst and there was no water in the pitcher by his bedside or her bedside.

He wrapped his robe round him and left the bedroom. For a few seconds, he stood at the top of the staircase but then, instead of walking down the stairs, he pivoted and paced along the vast hallway, checking off the bedrooms. Yes, he had remembered correctly. There were seven on the floor, as well as other multiple side rooms. Enough for even more children than the ones he had and the one growing in his wife's belly.

He reached the end of the hallway and saw that Wade had left his door ajar. He smiled. For all his feigned machismo, he was still such a child. He pushed the door wider and saw that his son – for the boy was his son, despite him bearing another man's name – had fallen asleep with a book on his pillow and his elephant tucked under his arm. He crept in, removed the book and placed it on the table by his bed. Then, he felt a surge of love towards him and kissed him on his forehead. He didn't really mind whether the new baby was a boy or a girl but he figured it would be good for Wade to have a brother. There were already too many females in the household.

He left the bedroom, walked a couple of doors down towards the nursery and peered in. Bonnie was sleeping with her bottom in the air and Ella was snoring softly in the little bed next to her. The vision of the two sisters juxtaposed in such different positions made him smile again. He went to Ella first, kissing her lightly on her cheek and then he walked over to Bonnie. He stroked the side of her face that wasn't obscured by the pillow and tucked some dark curls behind her ears. She was her mother's daughter, but he saw Scarlett in Ella, too.

Then, he stood back, and scanned the nursery. It was far too big for two girls – there was room for at least half a dozen more cots. He grinned at the thought and recalled a letter his mother had written to him early in his marriage, warning him that twins ran in Scarlett's family. Both Eulalie and Ellen had been twins, though only Ellen's twin had been born alive and had died in the first year of infancy. Scarlett had never mentioned the fact and he had meant to check with her that she knew but he had never gotten round to it and had conveniently let it slip his mind after she had stormed into their bedroom to announce her first Butler pregnancy.

He coughed suddenly, his throat parched and, in tandem, Bonnie stretched out before she sank into the mattress. In that split second before he realised Bonnie was still sleeping, he felt as he had on that night, almost two months ago. He hadn't really liked thinking back to that night. The nights since – yes. He had revelled in those nights, in their hedonism, relished the memories. But the thought of the night of Wilkes's birthday party made him shiver. He had never before lost control like that and he doubted he would ever lose control like that again. It had scared him, to realise how much he loved his wife but hated her, too. And then he had tried to leave so stealthily, hoping to pretend that the night had meant nothing to him, even though it had meant everything to him.

He shook his head in disbelief at his actions. God, he had been a coward! And it was only by chance she had woken. But what if she hadn't woken? What if he had managed to make the escape he had intended to make? What would he be doing now? Where would he be? And what would Scarlett be doing? Would she be hating him? Divorcing him? Still thinking she loved Wilkes?

He shook his head again. He didn't need to think about what if. This woman loved him and he loved her. More than life itself. And they were going to have a baby. And even though he didn't believe in fairy tales, he did believe that he and Scarlett could create their own, unique happy ever after.

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So that is the end of One Night. I enjoyed writing it but struggled writing the last two or three chapters. Particularly this one. I didn't quite get it right and if I have the energy, I will revise it. So much for my thoughts at the beginning of this story that it would be limited to 3 or 4 chapters…and it might have been better if I had kept to that!

I would love to hear what you thought about One Night / this chapter.