Thanks to all of you who reviewed last chapter: KnightMaiden, bloodredcherry, Makayla, homeric, Wander of the Roads, DirrtyXtina87, grullo-cowgirl, Evenstar-mor2004, Priestess of the Myrmidon, MedievalWarriorPrincess, greenDayzIdiot, and problemgirl088. (Doesn't it just such that I can't leave you guys individual comments anymore?)

I am looking into possibly getting a beta reader. So, if anyone is interested, please email me. Thanks.

Oh yeah, I looked up what a nun's headdress is called, and it's a wimple. That's such a funny word, isn't it?

Now, on with the chapter.

Chapter Fourteen

A light frost lay over the barren fields. Now that the harvest was over, winter was making its coming presence known. The air was chilled, and all the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for that first snow to blanket the earth.

Juliana sat at her window, staring out at the village below. People bustled about, returning to their daily chores after sleeping off their drunkenness the day before. It was as if the harvest festival had never happened. Juliana only wished that she could so easily forget all that had transpired only two nights before. But the feel of Galahad's lips against her skin would not be erased from her memory.

Unaware of her actions, Juliana lifted a hand to her collarbone and her fingers traced the mark that was hidden there beneath her habit. She could still feel his hands gliding over her body, the touch of his lips burning her skin, and the look in his eyes as he had stared down at her. The words he had spoken still rang in her head.

I love you.

Surely he had been mistaken. He could not love her. What he felt was only the lust of the moment. But Juliana's mind would not let her forget the look in Galahad's eyes. Those eyes, so beautiful and dark, had added truth to his words.

Juliana bit her trembling lip. Her heart ached and she wished that she could die. The weight of her secret, her sin, lay heavily on her shoulders. And it was all that Juliana could do to bear that weight. Not for the first time did she wish that she had not made her vows. For then she would be free to explore the feelings that were growing within her. And she was feeling something, something that she'd never felt before. The mere thought of Galahad caused her pulse to race and her body to ache for his touch.

Is he feeling the same? She wondered. Are his thoughts as haunted as my own?

She turned away from the window, unable to gaze any longer upon the harsh beauty of Camelot's land.

Juliana stood, straightening her habit, and walked towards the door of her apartment. Prayer was needed to lessen the burden she carried. Or perhaps Father Gannis would hear her confession. Either way, Juliana needed someway to relieve her conscience.

> > > > >

Placing a hand over her stomach, Guinevere tried to keep the nausea she was feeling at bay. The breakfast that she had forced down that morning was now threatening to resurface in a most unpleasant way.

The same sickness had plagued her since the day that she had noticed her moon-time had not come nearly six weeks ago. And since that day she had not gone one second without feeling the nausea or some other form of pain in her body.

Another heavy wave passed over her and she bit her lip to keep back a groan. Arthur heard her, though, and immediately his attention shifted towards her. Guinevere forced a smile to assure Arthur she was alright. He returned the smile lovingly before focusing his attention on the meeting of his knights.

Guinevere sat back in her chair and listened to the conversation going on around her at the Round Table. But she found it insanely difficult to focus on what they were saying.

It doesn't matter, she thought, Arthur will not doubt talk about this with me later.

She clutched at her stomach once more. Yes, bacon and ham, eggs, bread, and mulled wine had not been a good breakfast idea.

With a polite and apologetic smile, Guinevere excused herself from the room. The knights bade her good-day as she walked out. As the heavy wood door slammed shut behind her, Guinevere took off for the nearest latrine in which to dump the contents of her meal.

Once she had emptied her stomach of all its contents, Guinevere ran a shaky, sweat covered hand across her equally sweat drenched face. If only she had known that being pregnant would be so…gross.

But if I had known I would never have entered Arthur's bed in the first place.

Guinevere couldn't help the weak smile that captured her lips. Here she was a warrior and queen and she was afraid of being a little ill. She had fought in blood filled battles for gods sake, why should she be afraid of a little sickness?

Perhaps it is because of whose child I carry. After all, our child will take Arthur's place on the throne once Arthur passes to the underworld.

But Guinevere did not want to think of Arthur's death, no matter how far in the future it was, at that moment. No, she needed to focus on the life that was growing inside of her and how to keep the little unborn child healthy until it was time for his birth.

She placed a hand lovingly on her stomach. Arthur's child. No thought could have made her more happy than that of whose child she was carrying.

Just imagine how happy he'll be when I tell him.

> > > > >

Galahad found it increasingly difficult to focus on what Arthur and the other knights were talking about. His mind would not stay focused on the conversation. But, instead, drifted off to thoughts in faraway places. The most dominate thought: was that night truly real, or had it been just a dream?

A part of him wanted it to be just a dream. He wanted the part where Juliana had fled, her cold words still ringing in the air, to be only a figment of his drunken imagination. But then, the part where he had held her and kissed her and touched her; that part he wanted to be true.

Her cold dismissal sprung, unbidden, into his mind.

I assure you, my lord, the only love that I know, or that I wish for, is that of God.

Surely she didn't mean that. Juliana had to crave a love that was more than just heavenly. Didn't she care for the love of a man who could actually touch her and kiss her and show her just how much he loved her?

Galahad felt his anger stir. But it was not anger towards Juliana, but towards himself. How could he have let himself care? Galahad knew that Juliana would never return his sentiments, so why, then, did he continue to pursue her? He had told her he loved her, and yet she had turned her back on him.

You are a fool, Galahad berated himself. A fool to think that she would ever turn from her damn god. But you can still save yourself hurt if you just forget her.

Zephaniah's image forced its way into his inner struggle. She had offered him everything that he could ask, and he had refused her. And for what, a woman who would rather lay down in a cold bed and call herself pure instead of sharing his bed and enjoying all the joy that he could give her? No more. No more would Galahad let thoughts of Juliana rule his mind, his body. No more would he turn from Zephaniah when she was ready to give him anything he wanted. It was time for him to focus on his own needs instead of letting those of a woman who flatly refused him control him.

But such things are always easier said than done.

> > > > >

She didn't got to Confession. That had been the plan at first, but Juliana found herself to frightened to enter the confession booth and tell Father Gannis of her sins. Though a curtain separated the priest from those who were confessing, Juliana knew that he would know it was her on the other side. And she could not face the fact that he would know her deepest shame.

Instead, she had spent hours kneeling before the altar. She had knelt there until her knees and back were sore; repeating the same prayer over and over again. God would forgive her, Juliana knew that in the very depths of her soul. But, the question was, could she forgive herself?

For certainly her guilt had been eating away at her. And it wasn't just her actions that weighed her with guilt, but the fact that she had enjoyed those actions.

Juliana sat in her room. Night had fallen and with it she felt herself able to relax. Another day had passed and still no one knew of her sin. She had kept it hidden for at least a little longer.

Dressed in only her shift, Juliana brushed out the knots out of her hair. She brushed the fiery mane over her left shoulder, exposing the dark mark of her sin. Unconsciously she raised a hand to touch the bruise. Despite herself, Juliana felt a wistful smile creeping up her lips. Her mind replayed that night, the touch of Galahad's roughened hands, the feel of his lips.

No, Juliana thought, quickly coming down from the euphoria of her thoughts, no I cannot think this way. I cannot.

Placing the brush down on the small table that it called home, Juliana turned to go to bed.

A knock echoed through the sparse room. With a sigh, Juliana turned for the door. She opened it to find Mother Superior standing there. The older woman's eyes were kind as she smiled down at Juliana. Then her smile quickly faded and her lips pressed into a firm line. Her eyes hardened, turning from sunshine and springtime to winter and cold bitter winds. Juliana was shocked at the quick transformation, but then she noticed where Mother Superior's eyes lay.Juliana's pulse quickened and her hand flew up to cover the mark that rested on her exposed collarbone.

Mother Superior stepped through the doorway into Juliana's room, her eyes flaming, and slammed the door shut behind her.

> > > > >

Ooh, Juliana's been found out. Now the story is going to start getting interesting.

This chapter wasn't one of my favorites, but then again, I am my own worst critic. Please review and tell me what you guys thought.

PS. Sorry it was so short.