He shrugged impatiently.
"How should I know?
I'm a renegade, a turncoat, a Scallawag.
Would I be likely to know?
But I do know men who are suspected by the Yankees and one false move from them and they are as good as hanged.
While I know you would have no regrets at getting your neighbors on the gallows, I do believe you'd regret losing your mills.
I see by the stubborn look on your face that you do not believe me and my words are falling on stony ground.
So all I can say is, keep that pistol of yours handy--and when I'm in town, I'll try to be on hand to drive you."
"Rhett, do you really--is it to protect me that you--"
"Yes, my dear, it is my much advertised chivalry that makes me protect you."
The mocking light began to dance in his black eyes and all signs of earnestness fled from his face.
"And why?
Because of my deep love for you, Mrs. Kennedy.
Yes, I have silently hungered and thirsted for you and worshipped you from afar; but being an honorable man, like Mr. Ashley Wilkes, I have concealed it from you.
You are, alas, Frank's wife and honor has forbidden my telling this to you.
But even as Mr. Wilkes' honor cracks occasionally, so mine is cracking now and I reveal my secret passion and my--"
"Oh, for God's sake, hush!" interrupted Scarlett, annoyed as usual when he made her look like a conceited fool, and not caring to have Ashley and his honor become the subject of further conversation.
"What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"
"What!
You change the subject when I am baring a loving but lacerated heart?
Well, the other thing is this."
The mocking light died out of his eyes again and his face was dark and quiet.
"I want you to do something about this horse.
He's stubborn and he's got a mouth as tough as iron.
Tires you to drive him, doesn't it?
Well, if he chose to bolt, you couldn't possibly stop him.
And if you turned over in a ditch, it might kill your baby and you too.
You ought to get the heaviest curb bit you can, or else let me swap him for a gentle horse with a more sensitive mouth."
She looked up into his blank, smooth face and suddenly her irritation fell away, even as her embarrassment had disappeared after the conversation about her pregnancy.
He had been kind, a few moments before, to put her at her ease when she was wishing that she were dead.
And he was being kinder now and very thoughtful about the horse.
She felt a rush of gratitude to him and she wondered why he could not always be this way.
"The horse is hard to drive," she agreed meekly.
"Sometimes my arms ache all night from tugging at him.
You do what you think best about him, Rhett."
His eyes sparkled wickedly.
"That sounds very sweet and feminine, Mrs. Kennedy.
Not in your usual masterful vein at all.
Well, it only takes proper handling to make a clinging vine out of you."
She scowled and her temper came back.
"You will get out of this buggy this time, or I will hit you with the whip.
I don't know why I put up with you--why I try to be nice to you.
You have no manners.
You have no morals.
You are nothing but a-- Well, get out.
I mean it."
But when he had climbed down and untied his horse from the back of the buggy and stood in the twilight road, grinning tantalizingly at her, she could not smother her own grin as she drove off.
Yes, he was coarse, he was tricky, he was unsafe to have dealings with, and you never could tell when the dull weapon you put into his hands in an unguarded moment might turn into the keenest of blades.
But, after all, he was as stimulating as--well, as a surreptitious glass of brandy!
During these months Scarlett had learned the use of brandy.