Scarlett would have been charming if Rhett wasn't such a skunk.
She wanted to be sometimes. She thought he could be devilishly handsome and fun, so much more fun than a man had any right to be, and marriage to him was not like it had been with Charles or Frank, just as he'd promised. She could have enjoyed that part of their lives.
Trouble was, though, that Rhett always said something that set her nerves on edge and made her lash out at him. He'd laugh and make it worse with that condescension. She started to hate him for it, and she got so angry.
She would have been kind if only he would have been first.
He always made her say the worst, things she didn't mean, but if she said the truth in the face of his nastiness—no, her pride would never let her do that. If he was going to be mean, he'd get mean in turn. She would not go begging him for anything. She did not beg.
Even if all she wanted was a kind word.