Guess what, everyone? It's Ashley's turn!

Ever since he had found out that Scarlett was expecting their second child, Rhett acted differently around her. Gone was the inattentiveness that had marked a great deal of their marriage since Bonnie's birth—the moment Scarlett admitted to him that she wanted the child and he had tenderly kissed her, a shift in their world had begun. He told her, very seriously, that he had no intention of leaving Atlanta again while she was pregnant. If the experience of their first child was any indication, Scarlett would not be without her husband's presence for a very long time. The memory of how protective he'd been of Bonnie when she was a baby was funny now—she did not understand why his affection for their child had been so annoying to her at the time. Perhaps it was because he'd admitted that he cared for her children because they were hers that made his cooing less burdensome. The caring he'd shown her, the fact that he had begun to choose talking to her over spending time in the nursery, playing with Bonnie, was heartening.

Less heartening was Rhett's insistence she give up the mills and the store.

Before it was the largest object to the things she wanted, Rhett's iron will had been something to marvel at. No amount of eye fluttering and coy glances had ever been able to change his mind—her husband had said, quite flatly, that she would not work while she was pregnant. He'd even had the gall to say that she should count her lucky stars that he allowed her to work at all.

To this, his wife had almost asked if it was concern for the child or for her virtue that he insist she be kept away from the mills. The only thing after hisremark that had made her hold her tongue was a small amount of lingering guilt after the way she'd reacted when she'd been angry with him the last time. Rhett's walk was normal again, finally, and the peace between them was too nice to be broken just right now. She thought about telling him that she hadn't visited or cared about the mills and store for the last three months, because she'd missed him so much—but she did not want to appear weak to him, and admitting that would be a sign of weakness.

Besides, what Rhett didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Like, for example, her going to the mill today while Rhett was out taking Bonnie to the Picards' son's birthday party. She'd go quickly, make sure the work on the latest housing project was going smoothly, look over the books—and talk to Ashley. She'd be back before Rhett knew anything about it.

For the first time since she was fourteen, Scarlett was anticipating a conversation with Ashley not with elation, but with dread. The months since his birthday had not contained a single meaningful conversation between them. In the long time that Rhett had been gone, feelings of resentment and anger about that day's events had built up, not only towards her wayward spouse, but towards her 'Golden Knight', Ashley Wilkes, as well. The stupid, guilty look on his face when he'd seen her at the party came to mind—he hadn't done a thing to convince anyone that there was nothing between them. While everyone at the party stood around, talking about Scarlett, all Ashley had done was look the part of a straying husband. His inability to own up to the innocence of the moment between them made Scarlett's blood boil. It was true that the primary object of her ire for her entire adult life had been Rhett, but his on-the-whole good behavior since returning with Bonnie had transferred some of her feelings of betrayal to the other man who'd been responsible for her ostracism in Atlanta—Ashley.

Her baby was just starting to show, and she needed to talk to him before her condition was too obvious.

Scarlett drove herself in her carriage, like she had when she was married to Frank. She knew her clever husband would not be remiss in inquiring about her whereabouts, and the risk that a coachman would spill the beans was not one she was willing to take. She was afraid to tell Rhett that she wanted to talk to Ashley, not only because of the way he might react, but because her feelings for the Rhett and Ashley were becoming increasingly blurred. Everything she had always known about the two men at the center of her world had irrevocably changed that night.

The lack of feeling in Ashley's arms…the way Rhett had made her feel…that night. It was almost as if—as if…

She had to talk to Ashley. Then she'd know, one way or another. She would talk to him about this—she would not let him hold her at arms length and run away from the conversation that they needed to have. Rhett had always said he admired her forthrightness—Ashley would get a taste of it, today.

She was not impressed with the state of the mills. The books were in order, true, but Ashley had not invested well these last few months—particularly when it came to the actual selling of the lumber. From what she could tell, her business partner had stopped making large sales of wood to anyone but ex-Confederates—the fool! He must've realized that selling to Yankees was where the real money was!

But no, as usual, his 'honor' had gotten in the way of better sense. Three months ago, Scarlett might have made allowances for his bad business sense—but now it was as though a glaring light was being held over him, revealing all his deficiencies. His honor had prevented him from leaving Tara and taking her with him—even though he'd claimed to love her that day. Inexplicably she thought of Rhett, in the same situation—hadn't he offered to take her away, once? To take her away from everything?

If Rhett had been there with them, she would not have wanted to leave so badly. Rhett would have been able to shoulder the burden of running the farm—he always knew what to do.

She was brought out of her memories by the soft voice and gentle face of the man who for many years had been first in her heart. Ashley stood gravely in front of her office at the lumber mills—the office that she had been vacant from for some time.

"I heard you had come to inspect the mills, Scarlett," he said, seriously, "I wondered what you thought of them, since you took a break from working the last few months. Melanie has been concerned about you—"

"I'm glad you're here, Ashley. I want to talk to you—would you come in here, please?" she interrupted, rather flatly. He did not acknowledge the cool reception Scarlett gave him, instead following her into the office.

"Leave the door open, Ashley, would you?"

The significance of the request did not escape his notice, either. Back straight, head held high, she sat down at her chair behind her rather imposing desk. He abandoned the door and shrunk into a seat across from her.

"What exactly was it you wished to ask me?"

"Did you say anything at all to Melanie about the day of your birthday party, Ashley?"

She had meant to start the conversation with some questions about the business, the weather, anything—but sitting here at the mill reminded her of the real reason she had come out here today.

"Scarlett, I…" was his weak response.

"Did you tell her anything at all?" The fire in her, the fire within her he had professed to admire deeply was burning with cold fury at this moment. "Has Melly been hearing about the two of us from India only, or did you even try to tell her the truth?"

"Scarlett, I don't think we should talk about this—"

"There was nothing wrong with what we were doing, Ashley! It was an innocent gesture between friends. We've known each other for years, since we were both children—Melly understands that."

"She doesn't understand it, Scarlett," he said, his blue eyes fraught with sadness. "If I had told her that it was the embrace of a friend, she wouldn't understand what I meant. It's better that she doesn't know anything."

She stood up from her chair, seething. There was no point in pretending to be demure and deferring to himon the point—he was one of two men in the world who'd see her true, enraged self.

"It's better that she thinks your shrew of a sister is simply making things up? It's better that everyone in Atlanta hates me because you won't admit we've done anything?" She balled her fists in anger.

"Scarlett—I only thought it would upset you if I said anything—"

"Why?" she snorted, disdainfully, "Is it because you think Rhett left with Bonnie the day after the party for the same reason everyone else does?"

He said nothing, his face was guarded—she knew that he, like everyone in Atlanta, believed that Rhett Butler had left his wife for such a long time because she was unfaithful to him.

"I know what they're saying, Ashley. They all think we've had an affair, and I expect when I start to show they'll all think that this baby I'm carrying is yours."

His eyes widened in shock.

"A baby, my dear? Should you be here, in your condition?" he deflected.

"If the father of my child knew, my husband, I'd expect he would be upset. Not that anyone in the city will think that he is the father, considering that our bedroom situation seems to be the favorite topic of gossip in Atlanta's parlors."

The words were coming out—Scarlett herself didn't know where she had gotten the nerve to say half of what she was saying. It just came over her, suddenly, that she should lay it all out on the line—for years he had left her wondering about their every encounter, his every glance, what they all meant. Why couldn't they talk about it? Why shouldn't she say all these things to him—she could say as much to Rhett, and he wouldn't shrink in his seat like Ashley at this very moment was.

"Please, Scarlett, don't speak of such things as idle gossip—it's beneath you."

The sheer hypocrisy of the statement hit her like a freight train.

"You made me do it, you know."

Why not? Rhett had always said that Ashley had only ever valued her as a body, as a woman—why not test the theory?

"What do you mean?"

"That day—that day you told me that Rhett made me coarse—that he cheapened me. That you couldn't bare the thought of him touching me. That was the day I…"

Her actions the day she had told Rhett she did not want anymore children were so monumentally stupid—she had regretted it so much, it had nearly torn her marriage apart. Here, in front of her, sat the very man who had planted the idea in her head. However indirectly he had done it, Ashley had not wanted Rhett to have a single part of her—he had encouraged her to turn out her own husband from his most sacred marital right.

"I thought I was being faithful to you, Ashley. Do you know that? Rhett knew that you were the reason. I think that's why he was so angry that night, after the party…" She stopped, hastily. Scarlett realized that there was something special about that night, something she did not want Ashley to intrude on.

"Are you satisfied with the state the mills are in?"

The question brought her out of her reverie, but it was not what she wanted to hear from him. She was tired of the men in her life never telling her what they meant, what they thought. People were not her area of expertise—from the day at the barbeque when he'd rejected her, Scarlett was fairly certain she had been misreading him every step of the way.

"Why do you refuse to acknowledge the things that have happened between us?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She walked over to the door and shut it, then turned, glaring, to face him.

"Every time something's happened between us, every time I've told you 'I love you' or we've kissed, you've tried to avoid me and asked me never to talk about it again. Well, I want to talk about it, by God, and we are going to."

Ashley rose from his chair and turned to faith her. The look on her face, now, her flushed cheeks, her flashing eyes—this was the reason he should have taken his wife and son and left Atlanta forever. He was drawn in by the outer shell but strangely terrified by what she was going to say and ask—by her strength and power that he so blatantly lacked.

"I told you to forget it because I knew it would spare us both a great deal of grief," he said, somewhat aloofly, "And because I knew it was wrong."

"'Spare us a great deal of grief'?" she parroted, "For years I've thought that day at the orchard meant you loved me—and this whole time you thought it was wrong, didn't you? That it was sinful and bad and—and—beneath you, to feel that way about me."

"I should never have let us stay at Tara as long as we did, feeding off your hospitality—and I knew," he said, shamefully, "I knew that you being there was a temptation for me."

"If you'd simply loved me for my mind, I wouldn't have been such a temptation for you, would I, Ashley?" The words came from a deep-seated memory of hers.

His silence said more than finely spun words ever could.

With an immense rush of clarity, Scarlett saw in her mind's eye the truth—the truth she'd denied for years. The truth that Rhett had tried to make her see the day he'd visited her after she married Frank—that was where the question had come from—that Ashley saw her as a woman and lusted after her and wanted her.

But he did not love her. In fact, he was ashamed of feeling anything for her—self-disgust was written all over his face, and self-pity, and shame. Weak emotions, the sort she'd always loathed—the extreme emotions she always felt when pregnant were intensified by this fresh insight. She stalked towards him, slowly, purposefully, and stared up into his drowsy eyes.

"I can see, now, Ashley—you don't feel any differently for me than Rhett feels for Belle Watling, do you?" he visibly flinched at the comparison, "No, excuse me—Rhett actually respects that trashy thing, there's the difference."

"Don't compare me to him, Scarlett." There was something close to anger in his voice, "Don't. I would never willfully hurt or disrespect you the way he has."

"What do you call all these years of not telling me the truth? Of making me believe you love me?" she shrieked, hysterically. "What about when I left for Atlanta to get the tax money on Tara—didn't you know what I was going to do? You're no fool, Ashley, you must've known."

"I-I suspected what you might do—"

"And you did nothing to stop me—nothing. You let me go to see Rhett, knowing that I would stop at nothing to get the tax money from him, with marriage or without. Forget love, you didn't even care enough about my self-respect to stop me."

Each truth she uttered was like a cannonball to the gut.

"The night of the party, all the people there could see guilt written all over your face—if I'm going to have to pay for a crime, I want it to be one I'm guilty of. Maybe you thought what happened that day was because I loved you but it's not—because I felt nothing, Ashley Wilkes, you coward, do you hear me? Nothing at all!"

It was a good thing she had had the foresight to close the door to the office, the scream she let loose was so powerful. The words, she faintly understood, were the truth. She did not love him. She had felt nothing in his arms but nostalgia and friendship—the love and passion he'd once lit in her by his mere presence had faded into nothing. This anger was the most emotion he had elicited from her in years.

"All this time I've been pining after you has been a waste," she voiced aloud, "I've been…I've been crying for the God-damned moon!"

She didn't know what made her do it. Perhaps it was the certainty that he would never tell anyone about anything that transpired between them. Perhaps it was the no-so-distant memory of how effective it had been the last time she'd deployed this particular weapon. The memory of Rhett, the strongest man she'd ever known, doubled over in pain might have egged her on. Or it might have been the sudden realization of what a rotten friend she'd been to Melanie, how resentful she'd been, all because of this man.

Whatever the cause, for the second time in less than a month, the pregnant Scarlett O'Hara Butler delivered a devastating blow to the only thing left of the Wilkes' family estate.

Ashley at least had a chair to fall onto, but Scarlett did not feel the savage triumph that delivering the blow to Rhett had given her. Ashley was not as satisfying an opponent, by far—and while she knew she would forgive him, one day, the former Clayton County belle was as resentful of him for shattering her image of what a man should be as she was angry as herself for wasting so much time fawning over him.

"I will come by the house soon, to call on you, Beau and Melanie—and give you some instructions on the running of this mill. If you'll excuse me, I should be going home—see yourself out, Ashley."

With that, she opened the door to the office and left him inside, not giving his face another glance.

It was now four o'clock in the afternoon—the party was meant to go on till five, which gave her plenty of time to return to the house on Peachtree street before Bonnie and Rhett returned. Still, Scarlett urged the horse on, focusing on getting back home as quickly and discreetly as possible—anything to avoid thinking about what the colorful episode that had taken place in her office meant. She afraid of examining too deeply what this sudden realization meant—in particular what it meant in regards to her complicated relationship with her husband.

She walked up the massive doors of her house as quickly as she could in her pregnant state, and opened the door to a childishly familiar cry of joy.

"Mother—Mother, there you are! Daddy was so worried!"

Bonnie, her beloved youngest daughter, came bounding out of the dining room as soon as she heard the door open. Oh, God, that means-Immediately behind her was Rhett, his eyes shining with a strange mixture of relief, suspicion and anger.

Bonnie boldly ran over to her mother, who knelt down to hug the child with as much affection as she could give. Around her mouth was a distinct smear of chocolate, which her daughter tried in vain to rub off her face in order to impress her mother.

"I want to hear all about the party, Bonnie—did you have a good time, baby?"

"It was real fun, Mother—Daddy and I brought the best present, didn't we?" she entreated her beloved father.

"We sure did, sweetheart," he said guilelessly, "But wouldn't you like to hear about where your mother has been while we've been at the birthday party?"

Scarlett looked up from Bonnie and into Rhett's eyes. She could guess what he was thinking—she needed time to sort out her own feelings, but he wasn't going to give her any. He was upset that she had been out at all, but the fact that she'd come back while they were supposed to be at the party was as much circumstantial proof of her guilt as he needed.

"But I wanted to hear from Bonnie why the party ended so soon." She let the child go, reluctantly. "I thought you were supposed to be there for another half-hour, at least."

"The party wasn't over, Mother—Daddy was worried you was lonely, so we came back to play with you."

Somehow, Scarlett suspected that 'Daddy' had been suspicious she might try to pull a stunt like she had today, and so he had come home early to head her off—which he'd done, quite spectacularly. Rhett outmaneuvering her, once again. Of course.

"Well, is that so? How thoughtful of him." She smiled at her husband, who raised his eyebrows in return.

"Bonnie, why don't you go up to the nursery and give Wade and Ella the party favors we got for them?"

With an uncharacteristic surge of obedience, the miniature Scarlett dutifully ran up the stairs to see her older siblings, leaving her parents standing quite alone in the front parlor of the house.

"Where have you been, Scarlett?" he asked, bluntly.

"The mill," she answered, quickly. If she lied he would think there was something to hide, "I haven't been in months, Rhett, not since…" She turned red, aware that the last time she had been to the mills was the day before he left. "I needed to check on things."

"Did I not tell you that you were not to go to the mill while you are carrying my child?"

"Yes, you did—"

"Did you think I said that lightly, Scarlett? Do you realize how absolutely serious I was?" His entire expression was very dark and moody—he stepped towards her, and Scarlett stood her ground. She would tell him the truth—or as much of it as she had to.

"I know you think I'm made of glass, Rhett, but I was fine. It was just for a short while, just to check on things. Soon I'll be showing, and I needed to make a small trip—obviously I'm fine, and I won't go again."

"No, you most certainly won't. I'm having that one-woman carriage dismantled as we speak, and express orders have been delivered to every servant that you aren't to leave this house again without your destination being cleared by me."

"Fine."

He seemed to be bracing himself for a furious Scarlett, and the shortness of the reply caught him off guard. In truth, the very idea of it was galling, but it was better to protest later and escape to the sanctuary of her room now.

"I am going up to my room for a rest now, Rhett, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Wait a minute. We aren't done here."

He grabbed her firmly by the arm.

"I've agreed to your ridiculous blockade of my carriages, I don't see—"

"Did you see Ashley Wilkes while you were there?"

Of course. Of course that was what he wanted to know.

"Yes, I did," she answered, a defiant tone in her voice.

His eyes flashed, dangerously, and he took another step towards her. They were barely a foot away from each other, now.

"And what, pray tell, did you discuss?" was his silky question.

Rhett's transparent jealousy was maddening. She knew, from the night of the party, that all those years of denying he was jealous of Ashley were lies. The fact that he had been jealous of a man who had not really loved her, had not even deserved the distinction of being an object of jealousy, was enough to make her shout the first words that came to her mind—

"If you must know," she yelled, yanking her arm from his grip, "I told him I didn't care a whit for him and I kicked him in the same place I kicked you!"

—Which she promptly did.

There was a moment of profound silence. Scarlett clapped her hands over her mouth. Rhett stared at her. Scarlett stared back.

"Could you repeat that, please?" he asked, tonelessly.

"I said…" she whispered, breathlessly, "I said…I said I didn't love him and I kicked him very, very hard in the—in the crotch of his pants."

Without another word, Rhett swept her into his arms and up the stairs. Before she even had a moment to protest, they were in her bedroom, she was laid gently on the bed, Rhett was frantically locking the door and she had no idea why he was reacting this way.

He turned towards her from the locked door, an absolutely electrifying expression on his face. This hadn't been the reaction she'd expected—she'd expected him to mock her for thinking that she loved Ashley, she expected needling about the conversation they'd had—she expected a few arrogant Rhett Butler 'I told you sos'.

Suddenly he was on top of her, his eyes glazed with passion and adoration and she found her pulse quickening.

"Say it again, Scarlett—tell me what you said to him."

His voice was husky and his breath was hot against her face and neck.

"I told him he was a coward and he lied to me…" Rhett groaned at the words, as if he was actually aroused by them. "And then I…kicked him."

"Scarlett…" he muttered into her ear, "That is, without a doubt, the single most attractive thing you've ever said to me. Dear God, I wish I could've been hidden on a couch in that room and overheard it."

Before she could squawk that there was no couch in her office his mouth was on hers, stopping any words in their tracks. His hands her all over her body, gently running over her swelling curves while his lips were forcefully pressed to hers, hungrily probing her mouth. Next he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her nose—he trailed kisses down her slender neck.

Scarlett had stopped thinking about why Rhett was doing what he was doing about a half-second after he started doing it.

"God, Scarlett…" he muttered, between kisses, "This is why I love you so damned much."

The words registered.

They hit.

"What?"

Rhett Butler's kisses could make her forget a lot of things, but this was not one of them. She pushed him off of her, furiously.

"This is why you love me? This? Kicking Ashley in the nether regions can make you love me?"

They were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in almost perfect unison.

"No. The fact that you told him you didn't care, than gave him his richly deserved punishment for leading you on for the last however many years of your life—that's why I love you. Kicking a man in the most guarded part of his vanity is a most unladylike response to a snub, and it is your more unladylike qualities that made me first want to have you, to keep you…it's what made me love you."

Her willingness to kick a man in his privates when wronged as a reason for love was strange enough—that Rhett seemed to be filling up with desire at the very thought of it was altogether bizarre.

"When you kicked me on the stairs, Scarlett—the fact that I had made you that angry gave me hope, in a strange way. That your response was that strong gave me hope that I may have entered into the realm of things you truly care about—I've only ever seen you get so infuriated about two things—Ashley Wilkes and Tara." He kissed her neck again, teeth grazing the skin in a wholly possessive fashion. "If Ashley is out of the way, you understand that I have to make the move to replace him quickly."

"You—" Her breath nearly caught in her throat at his ministrations, "You already have."

It was another truth she realized today. Rhett had surpassed Ashley in significance—he was funny and interesting and, in spite of the way she treated him, he loved her. Rhett could make her laugh, cry, and feel like this—Rhett, she thought irrationally, could do anything.

"I'm competing with Tara, then—I truly have my work cut out for me."

The burden of Ashley off her shoulders, Scarlett could even believe that Rhett might be successful in his endeavor to surpass Tara in her heart—such a monumental task was made for him.

Melanie Wilkes was very concerned that night when Ashley came home from work, limping oddly. Later, when Scarlett came over for tea and to give her the good news about the Butler family's latest addition (a baby—how exciting!), she assured her friend that accidents in the lumber business were a regular occurrence, and no cause for alarm whatsoever—Ashley would recover.

Eventually.