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

aunt, my cousins and my cousin Cecilia’s newborn child. Who knows how many others carry Sir Robert Loxsleigh’s blood? Trust me, love. There is only one way. Come to my bed and lie with me. We will be married as soon as may be, but Oberon will be thwarted only if we love each other tonight.”
    “It would be wrong,” the dark lord growled in her ear, “and you know it.What good can come from that?”
    “We can pledge ourselves now,” Rob argued. “We can say our vows. I will keep them, as will you. There can never be any other for you or me.”
    “By your beliefs, it must be in a church,” Oberon argued. “Think of the scandal. Your reputation…”
    It was as if all around held their breath, as if the very room, the old house, the one built by Robert Loxsleigh in a faery glade guarded by fiveoaks, held its breath. Even the song stopped. But Oberon had misplayed his hand. Martha’s morals still quailed, but to let innocents die for her reputation would be vile.
    She looked into the man’s eyes. “I will lie with you tonight, Rob Loxsleigh, my husband in all but the ceremony.”
    The chorus burst into song again, a song of wild rejoicing that clashed with thunderous rage. Rob took her hand and raced her out of the ancient part of the house, back to the entrance hall, lit now by a branch of candles. The noises faded and then stopped.
    Martha knew that the faery had gone. Gone on to other entertainments.
    Rob took her into his arms, holding her tight and close, burying his head in her hair.
    Her loose hair, Martha realized, as it had never been except between brushing and pinning.
    He separated and kissed her, a gentle, reverent kiss. “You will not regret this.”
    “No, I don’t believe I will.” But she swallowed before saying, “Do we do it now?”
    He smiled. “We have all night. You’re damp in places and wet in others. Come up to your room and be comfortable.”
    She went up with him, hand in hand, but still embarrassed. She could hear servants around, woken from sleep and talking softly. About her. They would all know…
    But she would not sacrifice hundreds to her discomfort.
    He led her to a room where three maidservants worked, still in their nightwear with tied shawls atop. They cast her looks, but smiling ones. Did they know? Did everyone here know?
    The room was lit with candles and warmed by the flickering flames of a new-laid fire. Two of the servants were running warming pans through the bed. The other was spreading a nightgown over a rack before the fire.
    “I’ll leave you in their care,” Rob said, smiling down at her.
    She could do nothing but smile back. “I’m all awhirl.”
    “I know. Be comfortable. I’ll return later.”
    The subject still embarrassed her too much for speech, but she nodded.
    He left and she surrendered to the maids’ care. They gave her small beer to slake her thirst, and stripped off her damp outer clothing. Martha wouldn’t letthem strip her naked. She retired behind the screen to take off her shift and put on the nightgown.
    The maids toweled dry her hair and then settled her into the warm bed with a cup of chocolate and a sweet cake. There was a plate of fruit as well, but Martha could eat nothing.
    The servants left. She sipped the chocolate, which was richer than any she’d tasted. And she waited.
    All awareness of faery had gone, making her realize how it had lived in her for days, ever since that encounter in the park. Instead, there was a growing peace, a growing certainty that all was now right, despite the lack of church and clergy.
    She was drinking the last of the chocolate when Rob came to her, shining and handsome again, in a rich, blue robe.
    “My peacock, I see.”
    “At your command,” he said, crossing the room to her. “Always.”
    He extinguished the candles until only fire lit the room and came into the bed beside her. “I’m sorry it must be this way, my love, but it will be holy.”
    He was naked and she had to look away,