Thanks to all the reviewers, especially thekorapersonality. Your review was exactly the kind of feedback I like to hear. Thank you for putting forth the effort, I really appreciate it. And to everyone else – it's good to hear that I'm writing Rhett and Scarlett in character. That means a lot.

Anyway, without further ado, Part III.

-

It felt simply heavenly to be working again, to be useful and contribute, to get rid of babies and crying and sticky, sweaty nightgowns. True, Scarlett thought wistfully, she did not work every day as she used to, but it didn't seem to matter as much. Melanie and Mammy were more than happy to look after Wade and Ella while she was away. She found herself having more energy to take care of her children in a way that she never thought was possible. After her episode with Rhett, Scarlett was more determined than ever to show him she was as clever as any businessman and twice as shrewd. She also wanted him to see her acting kind with her children. If only – if only she had the time and patience to take Wade out somewhere. But life was much too important to waste on silly things like entertaining one's child.

But why did she care about what Rhett thought, anyhow? Of course, it wouldn't do to have something in which he could grasp the upper hand, lest he tease and harass her, but – Scarlett wished away the thought quickly. She mustn't get ahead of herself; the whole calamity that was Rhett was confusing. She did not need to single out this small detail in particular. Rhett was a friend and she wanted to look, well, good in front of him. There was no other word for it.

Scarlett was thankful that Rhett was no longer showing up at the house, for all her earlier lack of sympathy. True, she did not love Frank, but she held a kind of begrudging respect and fondness for him, for all that he had done for her and Tara. The prying eyes of the neighborhood peahens, at least, were not focused solely on her. For that she was grateful. And Mammy had stopped glaring disapprovingly at her; though, from time to time, she could be heard shifting from room to room in her heavy bulk, mumbling: "Gawd Almighty, Ah don' know why mah lamb co'sort wid dat white tras' Butler …"

Scarlett grew up listening to Mammy's angry mumblings, and though she was indignant as to Mammy calling Rhett "white trash" (how dare she categorize him with that whore, Emmie Wilkerson, and her bastard brats?), it did not matter too much. It was hardly worth picking a fight over. Scarlett had learned to choose her battles with Mammy and this was not one of them.

So Rhett's honor went undefended, but somehow Scarlett knew he would not mind. He would probably laugh, like he always did when such trivial things were presented to him, and say something about how honor was hardly worth Mammy's wrath anything. What fools to think of honor, when there were more important things at hand! He would then look at her, and in those few words Scarlett would grasp helplessly at an allegoric meaning far above her own understanding. More important things? Why, like money, and food, and the knowledge that you have escaped with your life! That was important!

Honor. Honor. Yes, Scarlett thought, I despise the word. But, oh! Ashley, Ashley, my darling Ashley! Why can you not do away with that honor? It is honor that keeps you from me, the hateful word! but I suppose … I suppose … if you had no honor, you would be just like Rhett. And I don't love Rhett! I love you!

Scarlett paused in her thoughts. This was puzzling, this business of honor.

"I'll think about it later; later, when my head is cleared," she thought quickly. "It's no use now. I'll just confuse myself more."

Scarlett thought it supremely clever of her not to mention these kind of musings to Rhett, tempted though she was. His status as her confidante had not allowed him sacred privileges yet, like hearing all about her internal struggles with Ashley's morality and honor. She knew he would only sneer at her and she didn't want sneering. She wanted comfort. And she wanted Ashley most of all, though how, how she would get him, she did not know. Her only plan was to wait and see. The universe would right itself, she just knew it. She would get Ashley and when she and Rhett went to Hell, she would laugh in his face until the Devil himself had to shut her up.

-

"Scarlett. I have to talk to you."

Scarlett was in the middle of adding up a column of figures when Ashley approached her one afternoon with this request. As soon as his soft voice fell upon her ears she paused in her work, and, sighing, spoke with irritation barely concealed.

"I tell you, Ashley, I must lease convicts. I simply have to do it. If you can think of some way to – to – con the Freedman's Bureau into letting us work the free darkies, then I'll listen. But, you know I need this money and they're dirt cheap. I –"

Scarlett turned around quickly and faced him when he did not interrupt her, set off-kilter by his abnormal silence and tension. She had a strange feeling that he had not been concentrating on her words. His eyes were fierce and something in his clenched fists told her that he had been summoning up the courage to say something to her. She had never seen him look so determined and it pleased her that he should be upset on her behalf. She clenched her ledger in her hand and watched him eagerly. Everything she had ever learned, everything that ever had been silly enough to seem important, seemed to fly out of her head. Her heart sang triumphantly: He loves me! He loves me! There was nothing else that mattered.

"You have to stop seeing him."

For a moment this didn't register with Scarlett and she stared at him in shock. Stop seeing who? Frank? She had expected a declaration of love but not an immediate order! Scarlett laughed. He sounded like Rhett, saying that.

She froze. You have to stop seeing him. Rhett. Good Lord! Ashley knew! Scarlett felt foolish for thinking that he had not known that Rhett had been visiting her (after all, the fat old cats chattered and blabbed more than chickadees), but somehow, she had believed, truly believed, that he had been impervious to idle gossip.

"Oh, Ashley, don't be a goose," said Scarlett, smiling good-naturedly. "I do business with Rhett, that's all. I mean, I do hate to tell you now, but he did lend me the money to buy this mill, and –"

"Scarlett, please."

She stopped and drew back her hand that had crept to his arm. He looked torn and his mouth turned down in a frown that broke her heart, lest he think any less of her for her past deeds.

"When will you stop thinking about money, Scarlett?" Ashley asked her quietly, rhetorically. "It is one thing to marry a man you don't love, but to gallivant about with Rhett Butler is to bury forever that dignity and pride that I so love in you. He can break you, Scarlett, and if you fall, I will not be far behind. I have neither your strength nor your spirit, you know that. You have always known that. For years you have been everything that I have not. You have triumphed and excelled in a world that has jeered at me, for all my dreams of the old way … And I know, I know … Scarlett, you have always been my rock, the point at which I could look and see myself for who I was, observe everything in perspective. You are the embodiment of a world changing, and you … oh, you brave girl, you took it for what it was and you flourished." He put his face in his hands. "And I – how I wish I could have been brave for you – and Melanie."

"Don't talk like that, Ashley," said Scarlett, feeling disappointed that this had gone to a level she could not understand. This kind of talk always bored her. "Rhett Butler could never break me. He's a fool to think he can. But let's not talk about this, Ashley, it depresses me –"

Ashley lifted up her chin and his warm hands sent a chill spiraling through her. He seemed not to have heard her. "Oh, my dear, how naïve you are! Men like Rhett Butler are animals. It makes my skin crawl to think what he might have done to you, had you been –" Ashley broke off awkwardly. "Scarlett, please, if you appreciate me at all – send him away and never speak with him again. It will give me some reassurance."

Men are not animals. Men are not animals. Rhett's words floated through her mind. Yes, stupid though it seemed, she believed him. It was hard to rebuke a man so firm in his statements that left no room for loopholes or arguments. Scarlett looked at Ashley and showed her dimples.

"Don't be silly, Ashley. Rhett is perfectly safe." She placed the ledger on the table. "Besides, Melly trusts him."

And with a twist of her head to set her earrings jangling tantalizingly, Scarlett walked from the room.

-

Scarlett felt like singing, dancing, laughing, kissing – anything to show how happy she was, that this day was going so perfectly she wanted to yell like Gerald used to, as he rode home drunk and slovenly and jumped each fence along the way. She had known it; she knew that Ashley loved her, whatever he might say about honor. And although she had understood less of it than she dared admit, it felt like a holiday. To think that he had sought her out, begging her to stay away from Rhett – why, that was simply delicious! Scarlett almost wanted to tell Rhett how much he had failed; that he had caused Ashley, by his presence, to stand up and declare that their relationship was causing him utmost distress.

Yes, it was ironic and funny, and would feel so satisfying to point out, but Scarlett would have to keep it to herself. If only Rhett liked Ashley! Then she could talk all day long and he would be supportive.

She spotted his carriage and walked over to him, straightening her bonnet and fixing her gloves, feeling like she would explode with the joy that filled her at seeing that swarthy face.

"Either you want something or you have inherited a great deal of money from one of your dead relatives," said Rhett as soon as he helped her inside; but though his voice was jeering, he seemed pleased at her happiness. "So what is it, Scarlett? I have a strange feeling that my presence not the cause of this euphoria."

"I can have a good day, can't I?"

Rhett watched her, amused. "Yes, you're right, but I'm still rather suspicious. Oh, don't frown so, dear heart, you look like a cat. I know you, and I know that even your avarice seldom makes you this happy, when you do happen to snare something worthwhile. So tell me, or I will have to squeeze it out of you. Did Queen Mab visit you with dreams of the honorable Mr. Wilkes?"

"No," said Scarlett, lifting up her chin.

He leaned closer to her, grinning like a lithe panther about to strike. His eyes flashed mockingly. "I see."

Scarlett sniffed. "There is nothing to see. I had a good day at the mills. Besides, I like feeling useful – and being away from Aunt Pitty's once in a while."

Rhett shook his head and laughed. "The joys of motherhood never did hold their charms for you, did they, my dear? Little Wade Hampton is a perfect example of that. Scared out of his wits at the thought of his own mother but calls someone like me Uncle." He clicked his tongue in mock admonishment and raised his eyebrows at her. "What is this world coming to?"

"I never do see your point," Scarlett told him haughtily. "You ramble on and on and I have to be getting home."

"My point? Do I have to have a point? Perhaps I tease you because you interest me, Scarlett. Perhaps I go out of my way to drive you home because I care. Think outside that box which is your mind sometimes, my darling, because the world is a very complex place."

Scarlett sighed impatiently. "Oh, do stop talking and drive on, Rhett, or I will take the reins myself."

Rhett turned his face towards her, and she was frightened to see that his eyes were dark with restrained emotion, his knuckles that grasped the reins pale and white. When he spoke, his voice was low and his eyes flashed dangerously. "You will do no such thing."

Scarlett, overcome by the male authority in his voice, fell silent and dropped her eyes.

"Tell me what really happened," Rhett demanded.

"I did –"

"Tell me, damn you!"

Scarlett pursed her lips and glared at him. Rhett's jaw set angrily.

"So you and Mr. Wilkes crossed paths again. What did he say to you?"

Scarlett took up the gauntlet icily. She longed to spit into his swarthy face. "He said that he didn't want me to see you again, and that he was afraid for me whenever you were around."

"As he should be," Rhett said, sneering at her in a humorless way. "Well, well, Scarlett. How happy this must have made you! This concern for your safety is very lover-like of him, isn't it? Frankly, I'm surprised he was so bold as to mention it. On the other hand, my little charmer, think of it rationally. He's already had to endure the bland Charles and the old man Frank tainting your body … the 'object of his desire', if I dare suggest … I suppose I was just one too many –"

Scarlett's body pulsed with white-hot fury. "You – you dare –"

"Yes, I dare," Rhett whispered, leaning close, watching her eyes like a hawk watching its prey. His black gaze was burning holes through her skin. "I dare because I myself cringe to think of you in the arms of another man. But I could endure that – yes, even that – if I knew that I had what really mattered. Oh, does it amaze you, Scarlett? You look surprised."

Scarlett raised herself taller in the carriage. "Well, I am surprised, if it comes to that. You know what I think of your … well, you do …"

"Lust after whores?" Rhett said uninterestedly. "Go ahead and say it, my dear, I'm not offended. How could I be offended because of something I know myself?"

"I will not have this conversation with you," snapped Scarlett furiously. "If you were even half decent you would try to – to – hide it or something."

Rhett laughed. "I'm afraid I can no more hide it than you can sheath your pretty claws, Scarlett. Don't be a hypocrite, it's not very becoming." She frowned and he laughed again, harshly. "Do you understand what I'm telling you, or shall I spell it out plainly? Just nod yes or no, if you feel the need to avoid speaking to me."

"I won't avoid it! I just don't understand why –"

"So, you don't know. I thought as much." Scarlett listened, reluctantly interested, but instead of continuing like she thought he would, he lapsed into silence and set the horses off at a trot. Disappointed, she leaned against the back of the carriage and watched his broad shoulders sway with the movement of the horses. She wished she were analytical so she could figure out what he meant by his strange behavior, but even if she did know, how rewarding could it possibly be? Why couldn't they talk about fun things, like fashion and money, and criticize the peahens behind their backs with a vengeance? Scarlett didn't want to talk about Ashley with Rhett – well, she did, in a mean way, but it never turned out how she planned it. Rhett always had a way of turning the tables and laughing at her for it.

Scarlett tried to think back to the beginning of their conversation. How could he get angry with her for being happy? She had thought he had not known that she had encountered Ashley but somehow he always seemed to know when she encountered him. If she didn't know any better she might think he was dogging her footsteps, but that was silly – not even Rhett would stoop that low. He would have better things to do, anyway, like hovering around that creature's place . . .

Scarlett wished she knew what really mattered to him, but that was another mystery, and she was not in the mood for analyzing anyway.