That night, Alice tossed and turned on the narrow pallet, her chemise tangling around her thighs. Her dreams were scattered, her body hot and feverish, a strange, pulsing heaviness between her thighs.
Part of her wished she could go back to the time before she had arrived at St Helen's. Everything had seemed so simple then. She had wanted nothing more than to raise orphaned children like herself, to cherish them with her love. She still wanted that. But something inside of her seemed to be growing, becoming louder, expressing a curiosity and wonderment about the intimate way in which a man fit inside a woman.
Father's words about her suitability came back to her, and so to the image of him and Beth on the pagan altar. Had her old Mother Superior refused to allow Alice to take her vows t
