They both startled awake when the rooster called. Fingers of light highlighting their nakedness. In the sober dawn, Marin suddenly felt a wave of shame, and he scrambled to hide his body with any fabric that he could find.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Tilly's brows furrowed deeply. "No one can know that I spent the night out here." Her eyes darted around and her hands swept the floor until she found her shift. Marin barely had time to admire her beauty or to reflect on his new knowledge of her body before she had hastily pulled the linen garment over her head and then stepped into her skirts.

As Tilly quickly dressed, Marin, keeping himself covered, found his bindings and pulled on his trousers. His fingers were clumsy and slow as he did up the ties. He had just secured his bindings and shrugged into his shift when Tilly finished getting dressed.

"I've got to go," she turned without making eye contact and rushed out of the stall's door and into the gray mist that blanketed the cool autumn morning.

Marin watched her go. His lips parted to say farewell, to tell her again that he loved her, but the words never left his throat. His eyes remained on the doorway for several long seconds before he picked up his tunic and vest and finished getting dressed.

Last night they had lost control and let their desires take over their bodies. They had broken vows. Sinned. Yet, he hadn't felt vile or dirty. His memory was muddled. Parts almost seemed like a dream, but he could still taste her. Still felt her warmth between his own legs. His whole body tingled and buzzed with the after-affects of their love. How could something so wonderful, so delicious, so awe-inspiring, be considered immoral?

In a haze, he rolled up his mat and stashed it in the far corner as usual. Then he went over to the basin of water that he kept by the stall door and washed his face. He wet his hair and combed it down with his fingers.

Pulling his robe across his shoulders and buttoning it at the neck, he left the stall, patted the three horses on their muzzles as he passed, and walked to go find his father.

Hobard was waiting, as usual, with a hot bowl of porridge. "Did you sleep well?" his father asked.

"Very soundly, thank you." Marin's ears flushed, an image of Tilly underneath him flashing across his mind.

"I didn't see Tilly in the dining hall this morning. I hope she is feeling well. Although, I wonder if she was called upon for her midwiving duties."

"Oh," was all Marin could muster, his ears burning brighter.

"By her accounts, Jocelyn's due any day. Is she not? By next week you could be welcomed back into The Order." Hobard sounded so hopeful, but the reminder that his purgatory was nearly over caused a new realization. Without his stall, what privacy would he and Tilly ever have again? Would they ever have an opportunity like they did last night?

"You are right, father. That is what she has said." His voice came out limp and monotonous.

"Don't worry, I am sure that you will prove your innocence once Abbot Osbert grants you an audience," Hobard said, patting Marin's back, misinterpreting his son's sullen tone.

Marin looked at his father and forced a smile. Of course his goal was to rejoin The Order. To use his God-given gifts to help cure the sick and heal the injured. His father, who loved and accepted him, believed in his innocence. And while after the previous night, Marin no longer felt so innocent, he knew his exile had been unjust.

As Marin continued to sit next to his father and finish his bowl of porridge, he expected Tilly to walk by on her usual route to begin her rounds. But, although several pairs of medics exited through the gates, Tilly did not appear.

"Looking for Tilly?" Hobard asked after Marin turned his head to see who was leaving through the gates for a fifth time.

"Yes, I guess I am," Marin admitted.

"Maybe she is already in town."

Marin knew that was unlikely, given where she had slept last night. But he guessed it was possible that she had gone into town as an alibi. To make it look like she had been out tending to those in need, instead of giving into her lust. He wished she had told him what her plans were. He didn't want to be far from her, especially after how close they had been the previous night.

"You're right. Maybe she got an early start." Marin handed his empty bowl back to his father. "Would it be okay with you if I went to look for her?"

"You two have become quite close, haven't you?"

Marin blushed again. "Yes. I can talk to her. We've become quite good companions."

"I'm glad." Hobard stood. "I've always like Tilly. Even when she was a young girl. She always carried herself with such confidence."

"You knew she was from Dawsbury?" Marin asked, astonished.

"Of course." Hobard smiled, his eyes gleaming. "Go check on Jocelyn. If I had to guess where Tilly would be, that's where I could look first."

Marin said goodbye to his father and made his way down the path into town. It'd been so long since he had been to Greggory's tavern, but his feet still knew the way. He easily made it to his formally favorite place for a midday meal. But, standing outside, he didn't know what to do. Walk into the dining room? Just head up the rear staircase to their living quarters? Maybe he should yell Tilly's name and pray that she came out to find him.

As he stood there and time stretched, he felt more and more foolish. Why had he come here? His father, thankfully, didn't know the circumstances of Tilly's absence this morning. So, why would his suggestion that she might be here have any weight?

He was just about to turn around and leave when he heard his name. "Marin?" came the sultry voice, floating over the air and finding his ears.

Slowly, he turned, pivoting on one foot, and found himself face to face with Jocelyn. It was the first time he had seen her since that fateful night. Loose strands of her golden-blonde hair blew in the wind, her face, although still beautiful as always, looked slightly bloated. Her belly was swollen, her breasts heavy, and she stood with her hips jutted out in front of her, hands on her hips. And yet, as much as her body had transformed in the past months, she seemed to glow. He swallowed his words, lost, and without speech.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. There was no anger in her voice. Just curiosity.

"I–I was looking for Tilly," he said, tongue-tied. His eyes couldn't stop scanning her body. This woman who he had convinced himself that he loved. Whom he was willing to sacrifice everything for. It was like his heart forgot how to pump. His hands dangled numb and helpless at his sides. He was looking for Tilly. The woman who actually could reciprocate his feelings. Who shared pleasure with his body, despite the way he was born. Gorgeous, intelligent, bold Tilly. Yet, something about Jocelyn's eyes still held power over him.

"I haven't seen her in two days," Jocelyn answered, moving one hand from her hip to her stomach. A tightness took over her features, and she paused for about half a minute. "But she said she would check on me today... This baby is coming soon."

"Yes, I see you are coming along." What else was he supposed to say? Should he acknowledge she had named him the father of the child who was currently kicking and turning within her womb?

"Would you like to speak? In private?" she asked.

He narrowed his eyes. Was this another trap? But she looked so vulnerable in this state. Vulnerable and uncomfortably large. She'd already had him expelled from The Order. Maybe he should hear her out.

"Yes," he accepted her offer, "I believe we have some... well, business to discuss."

She walked around to the rear of the building and he followed. Clutching the handrail, she took the stairs one at a time. Marin followed close behind, anxious she might misstep and tumble. But she made it to the landing safely and lead him into the same room where she had pretended to seduce him months before.

He thought back to that night. How ashamed he felt when her fingers trailed down the front of his vest. The shock of fear when she reached for his trousers. It was nothing like his nights with Tilly. He may never be comfortable in his own skin, but with Tilly he felt free to be himself.

Jocelyn sank into a padded armchair, winded from the climb. "This baby," she patted her stomach wearily, "has a very strong kick."

"Must take after its father," Marin dared, still standing by the threshold.

Her eyes were placid. Impossible to read. Would she defend her decision to set him up? Did she feel bad?

"You were always so attentive to me," she finally responded. "I knew you'd make an excellent father. Still know."

"But the fact is that Albert is the one who needs to take responsibility." His tone was firm.

She looked away, as if he'd slapped her. "You must think I'm such a... a harlot." Tears rapidly formed in her eyes and she furiously began wiping them away. "Oh, Gods, I just can't control my emotions these days. Everything seems to set me off." She forced a smile, but tears continued to pour down her cheeks.

"No, I don't think that." And it was true. He had lost control with Tilly last night, and would gladly lose that same control again, if she let him. It was just a trick of biology that his own weakness of flesh would never conceive a child. Jocelyn was no more of a sinner than he was, at least in that regard.

"Albert. Oh, I don't know what it is about him. But I just..." her voice trailed off. Her eyes, still cloudy with tears, looked lost in memory. Marin knew that look. It was how he used to look when talking about Jocelyn. Hopeless.

"I know," he said, moving closer to her. Taking a seat opposite her, he placed a hand on her knee.

"He made it very clear that... He will not be the father."

"What are you going to do?"

Her face grimaced with pain before she could answer, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the chair's armrests. Marin raced to her side, putting one hand on her back. When the pain passed, he was still kneeling beside her. "Thank you, Marin," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, keeping him close.

And that's how they were. Touching. Marin's face intimately close to Jocelyn's, as Tilly opened and stepped through the door. Shock was written across her face as she made eye contact with Marin, assessing the scene in front of her.