The Belvedere.

Who is he? Strange beings; men!

When he stood up from her, still naked, and pulled her dress over her head, she could see everything about him. How erect he had become.

Should she reach out and hold him again?

She decided against it.

He sat her down again to get warm, and got himself dressed after that.

She watched him tuck those proud parts into his smalls, leaving an obvious bulge against the fabric, and then completed dressing. How he did not burst forth again she did not know. He often looked across at her to see her watching him, but without shyness or embarrassment from her this time.

She remembered him offering her some cheese and some bread as well as ham, and even another glass of wine. He must have left them in the belvedere before he had gone on his own walk. She wished she had thought of that for herself as she often came through here.

Being ravenously hungry after her walk and what had happened to her after that, she accepted what he offered.

Harriet had lost all track of time and could remember little of what he had said at any time with her being in the state she had been in. She could recall some of what he'd done with her and to her, but not all of it. What she did remember was shocking enough.

He had been gentle and kind with her as far as she could remember, considering the circumstances; yet had been disturbingly familiar with every part of her body. He had touched her everywhere, caressed her breasts and other parts too, opening her up down there, kissing her everywhere, holding her, and they had been naked together for hours, as they had lain together and shared so many wonderful things. She remembered that. She had also slept, feeling safe and secure with his arm over her, always touching her personally, intimately somewhere; holding her breasts, or touching her familiarly in another place; a place that excited her.

She knew nothing of him. They knew nothing of each other. Would they part as they had met, strangers? Intimate strangers. She did not know who he was or where he lived. She did not even know his name, or remember it if he had told her.

It had been a peculiar situation for her; and one she did not understand. She had never been thrown so close to any man before, never mind a naked one. Some things were best not to recall so soon but could also not be forgotten.

At least it had stopped raining.

She remembered responding to various questions that he asked her as he had opened some of the shutters onto the world that had now changed for her. He had asked many questions. Too many for her mind to deal with easily.

“What is your name? Where is your home? Will you not be missed by now? Do you live in the area or are you visiting relatives? May I see you again? Will there be anyone worrying about you?”

Why was he asking so many questions?

She had answered him as well as she could. However, she was tired, and her mind was not clear. That soaking had drained her of all physical strength, though the other things he had done, had contributed to that too, leaving her emotionally unbalanced. Why, suddenly, did she want to cry? She understood none of what she was feeling.

What would she dare tell anyone about why she had been out for so long? Where had she been? What had she done? What had happened to her? And why was she still dry after being out in that downpour? The first questions were easy to deal with if she held her emotions under control, but not the last two.

She would tell them nothing. Especially not that she had been with a strange man whose name she did not even know, and that he had undressed her and done other things she could not speak about.

Undressing her had been the least that he had done to her. She would avoid everyone when she got home, and not respond to such questions, but would go to her room, bathe, and change. She could then sit and consider what had happened to her. She should also find out what she could about herself that had changed.

She was not the same young woman who'd left that morning. There was no one who would quiz her anyway, except for Cook, and her father, and she avoided him as much as she could. Her father would be blind to what had happened to her, but Cook might not be.

No, she would never disclose what she had done, or what had happened to her. She was not even sure, herself what had happened; yet she felt that she knew. Something had happened that should never happen to any young woman, and there had been nothing she could have done to prevent it. Fate did indeed play cruel tricks upon a woman.

He was speaking to her again.

“Before we leave, there is something that I need to ask you. I have the strangest feeling that we have met somewhere before. I felt it the moment I looked into your face.”

She had felt the same thing, but would not tell him that after what he had done to her, and invite more.

“Do you have any recollection of that?” She looked bewildered.

“No matter. It will come to me soon. Or not at all.”

He assisted her to her feet and walked with her in the direction of her home, while giving her some support with his arm around her waist as he held her other hand. She’d had too much of that wine.

“I will see to everything here when I return, and before I go home.”

The fresh air did her some good, clearing her mind.

He saw her to the door and was asking her to meet him again on the following day. His question startled her.

“Why?” She looked at him, not sure what he meant. Why would any man want to see her again after what had happened? Unless….

“Because I wish to see you again.”

But how did he wish to see her?

“Could you have led so sheltered a life that you have had no men as interested in you as I am?”

Indeed yes, I have led a sheltered life. But what kind of interest would that be, Sir?

She did not give voice to that thought.

“You are far too beautiful and full of character to have easily avoided those romantic entanglements. I would like to know more of the young woman who so captivated me before she had even spoken one word. You are an unknown entity, but an intriguing one.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it as he spoke. He was waiting for her answer.

She looked up into his face, wondering what she could believe. Unknown quantity? Not any longer. Not to him. He had undressed her, touched all of her, done strange things to her. Could he so easily dismiss and put behind him what he had done to her as though it had not happened?

“I would also like to have more of a conscious conversation with you next time, knowing your name, and learn something of you, rather than while-away the afternoon in each other’s embrace as we held each other to get warm.” They had done much more than that. Had she embraced him too? Yes, she had, and much more than that.

A feeling of confusion and warmth flooded over her. She wanted to cry. She looked at him in surprise to hear him describe it that way. Yes, she had responded. She had put her arms about him and rested her head on his shoulder as they had sat together, entirely without clothing, and he had touched her and kissed her without any complaint from her. She had also touched, and held him... that proud part, with strange consequences, but the whole afternoon and early evening had been nothing but doing shocking things like that. How could she even think of what had happened and recall any of it with pleasure? Yet she did, feeling weak over it.

She could still feel him between her legs, kissing her, and being forceful there with that part of his. She had encouraged him far too much by remaining silent when she should not have been. Too many memories were coming back to her causing her to blush and to press her legs together, feeling him there again between them. She hoped he could not detect her confused feelings or see too much in her eyes

.

“We spoke too little.” He was looking intently at her and his eyes were sparkling with forbidden knowledge. Of her. Knowledge of her in that biblical sense. He had seen her naked, he had touched her, more than touched her. He had interfered with her, and she had enjoyed it.

“There must be no goodbyes. We should meet again at the belvedere tomorrow morning, at nine. Or should I come here for you? You did tell me your name.”

She was horrified to think that might happen. “No, not here.” That had been definite enough. “I shall meet you. But you must not come here.” She should have refused to meet him at all after what had happened between them but dare not. Not after that suggestion that he would come here to claim her if she did not.

They were unseen by anyone in the house, and no one met them at the door. She let herself in and saw him wait. Did he expect her to invite him in? And what then?

Impossible!

He was smiling at her and captured her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss it. No one had done that to her before. She remembered him saying, however, not to forget their appointment, and that he would expect her without fail. If she did not come as he had requested…? He said no more, but she knew what would happen.

She remedied that omission without thinking twice about it. She could not allow that.

“My name is Harriet Ward, sir, and I did tell you that I would meet with you. You should not come here.”

“Good. I thought you would when you had chance to think about it. And you already told me your name. Several times.” She could not remember telling him.

“I am James Read. I do hope you have not forgotten that too.”

She had.

“I am sure we shall neither of us sleep well after what we have learned of each other. I know that I won’t. I hope that I did not leave you with entirely unpleasant recollections, as I fear I did. I have none.”

What man, would?

He swooped in quickly before she could stop him and laid a gentle kiss upon her lips.

He bowed to her, and walked away with a spring in his step, and without once looking back.