They’d be most charming if they weren’t always telling you that they can take care of themselves, thank you.
Generally they are telling the truth, God help them.
And so men let them take care of themselves.”
“How you do run on,” she said coldly, for there was no insult worse than being likened to a Yankee girl.
“I believe you’re lying about a siege.
You know the Yankees will never get to Atlanta.”
“I’ll bet you they will be here within the month.
I’ll bet you a box of bonbons against—” His dark eyes wandered to her lips.
“Against a kiss.”
For a last brief moment, fear of a Yankee invasion clutched her heart but at the word “kiss,” she forgot about it.
This was familiar ground and far more interesting than military operations.
With difficulty she restrained a smile of glee.
Since the day when he gave her the green bonnet, Rhett had made no advances which could in any way be construed as those of a lover.
He could never be inveigled into personal conversations, try though she might, but now with no angling on her part, he was talking about kissing.
“I don’t care for such personal conversation,” she said coolly and managed a frown.
“Besides, I’d just as soon kiss a pig.”
“There’s no accounting for tastes and I’ve always heard the Irish were partial to pigs—kept them under their beds, in fact.
But, Scarlett, you need kissing badly.
That’s what’s wrong with you.
All your beaux have respected you too much, though God knows why, or they have been too afraid of you to really do right by you.
The result is that you are unendurably uppity.
You should be kissed and by someone who knows how.”
The conversation was not going the way she wanted it.
It never did when she was with him.
Always, it was a duel in which she was worsted.
“And I suppose you think you are the proper person?” she asked with sarcasm, holding her temper in check with difficulty.
“Oh, yes, if I cared to take the trouble,” he said carelessly.
“They say I kiss very well.”
“Oh,” she began, indignant at the slight to her charms. “Why, you...” But her eyes fell in sudden confusion.
He was smiling, but in the dark depths of his eyes a tiny light flickered for a brief moment, like a small raw flame.
“Of course, you’ve probably wondered why I never tried to follow up that chaste peck I gave you, the day I brought you that bonnet—”
“I have never—”
“Then you aren’t a nice girl, Scarlett, and I’m sorry to hear it.
All really nice girls wonder when men don’t try to kiss them.
They know they shouldn’t want them to and they know they must act insulted if they do, but just the same, they wish the men would try... Well, my dear, take heart.
Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it.
But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient.”
She knew he was teasing but, as always, his teasing maddened her.
There was always too much truth in the things he said.
Well, this finished him.
If ever, ever he should be so ill bred as to try to take any liberties with her, she would show him.
“Will you kindly turn the horse around, Captain Butler?
I wish to go back to the hospital.”
“Do you indeed, my ministering angel?
Then lice and slops are preferable to my conversation?
Well, far be it from me to keep a pair of willing hands from laboring for Our Glorious Cause.”
He turned the horse’s head and they started back toward Five Points.
“As to why I have made no further advances,” he pursued blandly, as though she had not signified that the conversation was at an end, “I’m waiting for you to grow up a little more. You see, it wouldn’t be much fun for me to kiss you now and I’m quite selfish about my pleasures.
I never fancied kissing children.”
He smothered a grin, as from the corner of his eye he saw her bosom heave with silent wrath.