At ten-fifteen she was on the beach, wrapped in her towel, and Armand was waiting for her. He took her hand and led her to a small sheltered stretch of beach behind some rocks and wordlessly they kissed and caressed, holding each other tightly, whispering words of love.

‘I want us to make love,’ Keelin whispered.

‘So do I,’ Armand murmured against her ear. ‘But this will be the road of no return for us. Are you sure?’

‘Very, she said emphatically. ‘Are you?’

‘Very,’ he echoed smiling at her in the moonlight. ‘I found some condoms in my predecessor’s bedside locker. Perhaps he left them for me,’ Armand said awkwardly. ‘You know some priests don’t keep their vows of celibacy.’

‘Well, here’s one nun who won’t be keeping hers,’ Keelin teased, touched by his embarrassment, drawing his head down to hers before sliding the top of her bathing suit down to her waist.

‘I will have no shame with you, Armand. I give you my love and my body freely,’ she whispered placing one of his hands on the round curve of her breast and gasping with pleasure when his thumb caressed her hard nipple. He pressed her body close against him and she felt a wild and wanton surge of delight at his arousal. This was what her body was made for, Keelin thought, exhilarated, as they lay down together on his towel and brought each other to heights of pleasure neither of them could have imagined.

It was after their second time that Armand realized the condom had burst. ‘Mon Dieu,’ he muttered, horrified. ‘Oh Keelin, I pray I have not made you pregnant.’

Satiated, euphoric, Keelin nestled against his broad chest, loving the roughness of the dark patch of hair against her cheek. ‘If I was to have your baby I would think it the greatest gift I was ever given,’ Keelin said tenderly, knowing that there was no going back for her now. Once the first of January came, she was renouncing the veil and taking her place in the world again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Keelin realized that she was pregnant days before Christmas. Her period was late, she felt constantly nauseous and her boobs were sore. She knew she was pregnant. So much for her grandiose notions of a baby being her greatest gift, she thought in utter dismay. Yes, it would be wonderful to be expecting a child if she and Armand were lay people and married, but they were nun and priest, without a penny between them. She raged at the unfairness of it all. She and Armand had only made love twice. Now what was she going to do? Where was she going to go? An unmarried mother and ex-nun hadn’t many prospects.