Free The Captive Heart by Bertrice Small Page B

Hayle Watteson would eat nothing, and he only sipped at his wine. Sir Udolf conversed with his daughter-in-law, attempting now and again to bring his son into their light conversation, but Hayle Watteson would not speak to them.
    When the food had been cleared away Alix arose and curtsied to the two men. Then, without a word, she departed the hall.
    “You will go to her tonight,” Sir Udolf said. “And you will treat her with kindness, for she has done you no wrong, my son.”
    “She allowed the queen and her father to make a marriage with me,” he said. “She did not love me, and she knew I did not love her. She wanted a place for her father. She is little more than a whore, for she let herself be used by others. And she is barren.”
    “She is a good lass, my son. You have not given her a chance because of your overwhelming passion for your mistress. But now Maida is dead and buried. Alix has behaved well since your marriage. She has kept the hall, and the house servants have come to respect and like her. You would like her too if you would but cease this unreasonable behavior. You must have an heir. You have a wife. Do your duty!”
    “Mount her yourself!” his son snarled angrily.
    The baron’s face grew crimson with his anger. “I have spoiled you,” he said in a suddenly hard voice. “I saw no harm in your taking a mistress. It is what a man does, but you do not behave like a man. You behave like a child. Must you be put to your wife like a stallion to a mare? Will you shame her so? She has done you no ill, Hayle. Why do you persist in punishing her?”
    “She is not Maida” came the stubborn reply. “Why can you not understand that? Your grandson, my heir, died with Maida. There will be no other, damn you!” And Hayle Watteson stormed furiously from the hall.
    “Go after him,” the baron ordered his servants. “And then take him to his wife.” He reached for his goblet and drained it, nodding to a servant to refill the container.
    In her chamber Alix had drawn the draperies wide, and an autumn moon shone through the glass, spreading a wide beam across the floor. She had dismissed Bab, for the serving woman’s constant chatter and her lack of respect irritated Alix. Eventually she was going to have to find a servant who suited her better. She would wait until she was with child, for she knew Sir Udolf would give her anything at that point. Alix undid her long wavy hair and began to brush it out. Her mother had said its color was that of dark honey—rich and deep gold. The brush slicked down its length again and again and yet again. It was silky to the touch, Alix thought, as she plied her brush. Suddenly she heard a commotion in the hallway, and her door was flung wide and Hayle Watteson virtually thrown in by two husky male servants. Alix jumped up as he landed at her feet.
    “Master said to bring him to you,” one of the men said with a half leer. Then they were gone, pulling the door closed behind them.
    He got to his feet slowly. Between the moon and the candles, the chamber was well lit. He stared at Alix in her simple batiste night garment, her long dark gold hair framing her heart-shaped face, hanging about her shoulders. “You aren’t Maida,” he finally said. His eyes were dull, showing no emotion.
    “No, I am your wife, Alix, my lord,” she answered quietly.
    “You aren’t Maida!” he repeated more forcefully, and began to become agitated. “My darling is dead, yet you live. You do not deserve to live!” He took a step towards her, his hands reaching out for her.
    Frightened suddenly, Alix screamed a piercing cry. The blank look in his eyes had now been replaced by a mad fury. She shrieked again, falling back upon the bed.
    He fell upon her, his hands wrapping themselves about her slender neck. “I will not allow you to live if my Maida is dead,” he said in a cold voice. His hands began to tighten about her throat, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh.
    Alix clawed at