Songs of Love & Death by George R. R. Martin

credulous.”
    He grabbed her and shook her. “Why am I cursed with such an impossible woman!”
    She fought him off. “Cursed.
Cursed.
Because I will not sin in your bed I’m a curse?”
    “I want to
marry
you!”
    “I don’t want to marry you!”
she yelled, inhibitions shattered by drink. She was magnificent. But adamant.
    “You’re mad, Mr. Loxsleigh,” she said with the careful precision of the drunk. “It’s sad, but I will not bind myself to a madman.”
    A man laughed, deep and dark.
    Martha looked around, almost losing her balance again. “Who was that?”
    “Oberon. Anticipating victory. Martha, listen to me. My birthday isn’t twelve days away, it’s tomorrow. We need to go to bed together. Now.”
    She blinked at him. “That is a most improper statement, sir.”
    “I know. Very well, we need to go on to Five Oaks. Now.”
    “Mad, mad, mad.”
    “We could ride.”
    “I cannot ride.”
    “We could share a horse.” He desperately wanted her willing. “Martha, if we don’t… wed by tomorrow I will die. My father will die. All the descendants of Sir Robert Loxsleigh, wherever they may be, will die within the year.”
    She swayed slightly. “It is impossible for us to marry by tomorrow, sir. Banns… and I do believe that you have made me drunk.”
    He approached again. “Certainly you are affected by the punch, MissDarby. Permit me to escort you upstairs.”
    She swatted at him. “Keep away from me, you… you…
horny goat
.”
    That came so improbably from her lips that he laughed.
    A mistake. She backed away, muttering, “Mad, mad, mad. Keep away from me. And I will
not
go to your home. Not tomorrow. Not ever!”
    He watched her steer carefully toward the door. Some were made docile by drink, and some quarrelsome. Clearly Martha Darby was the latter. Some were made lusty, but he’d never trusted to that.
    He followed at a distance, ready to save her if she stumbled on the narrow stairs. Halfway up her legs betrayed her and she sat down, leaning her head against the wall, muttering, “Drunk. I’m drunk. Oh, the shame…”
    Then she slipped into a stupor.
    Rob went to where she slumped and touched her prim cap. “Martha, my love, I wish it had been otherwise. Pray God you forgive me.”
    He gathered her into his arms, aware of Titania’s exultance and Oberon’s fury and hating both equally. Titania’s lilting voice approved. But then Oberon changed his tone to coaxing.
    Will you rape her?
it murmured.
Despoil her limp body? What will be the result when she regains awareness and understands what you have done?
    She’ll love you,
argued Titania.
She’s your marrying maid. It is her destiny to love you just as it is your destiny to love her. Do it now, my knight. Do it now so you and your line can live.
    Do it now and eat bitter bread forever. Perhaps it is not necessary. Perhaps I will allow your birthday to be as your worldly custom designates.
    Rob carried Martha up to his bedchamber where he laid her on the bed. He untied the stings of her cap and took it off, then unpinned her hair. He spread it, astonished by its silky thickness, aroused by it and hungry. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers…
    Which were slack and unresponsive.
    He inhaled, straightening. “I cannot,” he said. Titania screamed at him; Oberon laughed.
    Where was virtue and vileness here? Where was right and wrong?
    There was one last hope.
6
    M ARTHA WAS FIRST aware of a throbbing head, and then that she was cold and wet. Then that she was not in her bed, but being carried. Was this another odddream?
    She struggled feebly and realized she was trapped in something. In heavy cloth.
    “Hush, love, we’re home. I’ll soon have you warm.”
    “Home?” She forced her eyes open and saw a distant starry sky. Closer, she saw Loxsleigh’s shadowed face.
    “What have you done?” Her mouth was almost too parched for speech.
    “Brought you to Five Oaks. It was the only way.”
    “No…” He was going