The Captive Heart by Bertrice Small

dispensation is given, you and I will marry without delay. I am no stripling, my sweet, although I promise to be a vigorous lover to you,” Sir Udolf told her. Leaning forward, he attempted to kiss her lips.
    “Please, my lord,” Alix responded, drawing back so that his mouth did not touch hers. “Your son is not even cold in his grave. Your tone is too intimate. Your manner even more so.” Her tone had become scolding. Her look one of stern disapproval.
    He was immediately contrite. “Forgive me, Alix,” he said, genuinely remorseful.
    Alix nodded graciously at him and arose from the high board. “I will go to my own chamber now, my lord,” she told him.
    “When we are alone together will you call me Udolf?” he asked her, rising too.
    “If it would please you, my lord . . . Udolf,” Alix answered him. Then she said, “You did not tell me when you plan to hunt, Udolf .”
    “Not tomorrow, but the day after. The weather is getting colder, but there are no signs of a storm on the horizon,” he told her. “You will find I am a good provider.”
    “From the moment I entered this hall I have never wanted for anything, Udolf,” Alix responded. Then she left him. This evening had helped her to make up her mind. She must leave Wulfborn, and she must go the moment he was gone hunting. She could not wed him, and she did not think he could keep his growing desire for her in check until a dispensation arrived. What if he got her with child? Then she would have no choice but to remain. She knew that many would consider her actions foolish, but she had to go. Sir Udolf was old enough to be her father. Had become her father’s friend. The thought of being his wife, of being mounted by him, repelled her, made her nauseous.
    The following day she prepared her chamber for prayer and fasting. She told Bab of her plans, saying, “I must not be disturbed while my lord is away. He has sent the priest to York, for a dispensation for he wishes to wed me himself and get an heir on me. Before I can be at peace with such a thing I must discharge a final duty to my husband. I will fast and pray for his soul while Sir Udolf is gone.”
    “Why, the wicked old devil,” Bab said, grinning. “We all knew he needed a new wife. He should have taken one years ago, after the second one died. He has not even taken a mistress, although now and again I know he satisfies his naughty urges on one or two widows in the village. But they can’t give him an heir. Only something young and juicy like you can give him what he wants. And you, being orphaned, are content, I suppose, to have him for a husband. Well, you’re strong enough to manage him, lady. And old men always dote upon their young wives, especially them that gives them bairns.”
    “Of course I will do what is right,” Alix said. “Now, do you understand that once I enter my chamber tonight I am not to be disturbed?”
    Bab nodded. “Aye,” she responded. “Say your prayers and clear your conscience, lady. I cannot fault you for that.”
    “No, you cannot,” Alix replied sharply.
    Bab cackled with laughter. “You look all soft and meek, but you are not,” she noted. “I’ll tell all to keep away. Shall I come to you when the master returns?”
    Alix nodded. To do otherwise would have aroused Bab’s suspicions. But where was she to go? She had had no family in England but her parents, who were now dead. The queen would—could—not take her back, and besides, Margaret of Anjou being a practical woman, would side with Sir Udolf. Perhaps if she could reach the coast she could take passage for France and then make her way to Anjou to find her father’s family. It would not be an easy journey. Indeed, for a young woman traveling alone without even a servant it could be dangerous.
    In the days before her father had died he had surprised her by giving her a pouch containing an amount just slightly in excess to the dower he had paid Sir Udolf. “A woman alone should always