Note/L10N/KDQ/2.03/Books/povsshoydenshusband3?
povsshoydenshusband3 
原文
<font face=1><DIV align="center">The Hoyden's Husband<br>
<p>
Part 3 - Happy Ever After
<p>
By Cartland the Barbarian
<p>
<DIV align="left"> <IMG src="Book/fancy_font/u_66x62.dds" width=51 height=61>gh! Rogier's eyes! She had to force herself to look into them without a grimace. But with her parent's relationship as the only model of marriage she had, she accepted that the need to do so would be relatively short.
<p>
At one point she was so uncertain as to whether she could go through with her plan she tried to confide in her chatterbox shop girl. But this girl could not comprehend why Marienne hadn't simply taken him straight to bed. The idea of marrying him she found risible. Hadn't she made it clear? After two years Rogier would exceed the acceptable age, finding arousal increasingly difficult except occasionally with other women whose ages would become younger over time. The shop girl said if she had to marry, she should marry a teenager. A teenager would be easier to train, and would give reasonable service for twenty years before Marienne would need to change to a newer model.
<p>
As Marienne had not contemplated matrimony except as a way to continue the family line, with Rogier's simpering gaze to worry about, twenty years sounded like life imprisonment. Let him get sated within two years, the sooner the better. She would be happy for him to seek pleasure elsewhere once he had given her a son.
<p>
To cajole him into action she began flirting with other men. There had never been any question that it was anyone other than Rogier she would marry but he did not know that. She made herself be charming to a succession of equally sycophantic, adoring young men every one of whom made her cringe.
<p>
Why was it that in the presence of attractive women men were emasculated? Not that the thought of sweaty, armoured soldiers parading their battle scars was any more appealing. Perhaps, once the business of producing an heir was over, she could take time to look for a man she could love. Or at least find one she could like! As Rogier was finally galvanised into proposing by the risk of losing her, she muttered imprecations against her father for putting her into such an unpleasant situation.
<p>
And now, here she was, married to a man whose devotion to her could not be doubted, wishing he'd get on with the job in hand, so she could tell him to go and drown himself.
<p>
Something was amiss. If Rogier had been more communicative it would have been possible to nag the reasons out of him. Perhaps, despite all the effort she had put in to prevent it, he had come to realise the extent to which she loathed him.
<p>
She pushed the salad aside.
<p>
"Rogier," she whispered in her usual tone, "you told me I was a very special girl!"
<p>
Her gaze held him as a ferret's might hold a rabbit. He nodded unhappily and managed to get out the word 'special'.
<p>
She went on: "You said I was in a league of my own, beyond comparison, unique. Didn?t you mean it?"
<p>
After a great deal of hesitation and several incoherent openings he managed: "It's true."
<p>
"Then why won't you make love to me?"
<p>
There was another long struggle before he came out with the admission: "I can't."
<p>
She was incensed. It took all her training for her to keep her voice low. "What do you mean can't? You have fathered 79 children..."
<p>
"Ninety-three."
<p>
"...whatever. There is no question of 'can't'!"
<p>
He must have realized that something more was needed. With a supreme effort he constructed a sentence.
<p>
"You don't like men, do you?"
<p>
She was so surprised at hearing more than three words together she almost forgot to register the question. It would have been easy to dismiss it with a laugh but if he was forcing himself to make an effort it would not hurt her to be gracious. After giving it a fair amount of thought, she answered: "I am not sure whether it is true to say I don't like men. What I will agree is that I haven?t yet found one I would be comfortable with in bed."
<p>
"Including me?"
<p>
She had gone too far to lie now. "Including you."
<p>
He regarded her in silence for several minutes, their eyes locked as if he was trying to see inside her soul. This expression was far less sickening than the usual witless ogling. Perhaps there were depths to him he had not yet shown.
<p>
Eventually he settled back in his chair. If anything her candour had made him the more relaxed. He asked: "Your story?"
<p>
And she told him. The more she explained the more ashamed she became. How had her actions been anything other than dishonourable? He would not possible want her as a mother for his children now. She could have held a lot back and yet once started she could not contemplate the thought of cheating him again. Let him hate her, divorce her if he must, he would hear it all.
<p>
Rather surprisingly he did not storm out of the tavern the moment she finished. He ran his hand through his glossy hair and said slowly: "It's a problem."
<p>
There was nothing she could add to that. Telling the full story had been draining. She would like to have retired to bed. She could tell that it was quite the wrong moment to propose such a course. Then he seemed to come to a decision. With a complete change in manner he leaned towards her, purposefully and said: "You get a letter from your father, a man you have never seen and who avoided you as if you had the plague. You instantly do as the letter commands. Why?"
<p>
She gaped at him. It was not the question that shocked her - it was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances - but that he was capable of lucid speech. She shut her mouth and shook herself. She must be the one that seemed moronic now.
<p>
"I would answer your question if I could. It is something I have asked myself too. Unfortunately I do not know what to say. All I can guess is that I felt a need to please my father so that he might accept me. My mother spoke much and often of his 'family'. She was scathing about it. Yet I rather liked the idea of being a part of something that had gone on for hundreds if not thousands of years. Perhaps it is nothing more than a justification for my life but I wanted to stay a part of it. As you know, our marriage agreement insists that all children will keep the Haste family name."
<p>
He smiled at her. For the first time it was a smile of friendship, not a moue of lust. If he could stay that way, Marienne saw, she could certainly get to like him. Love still seemed a long way away.
<p>
"Your children will have your family name," Rogier averred. "But you will not be having any children with me."
<p>
It was worse than being kicked in the stomach. Just as she was beginning to think the marriage might not have been such a mistake after all, he shattered every illusion.
<p>
He was still talking. "We'll need to go through a few legal hoops, I expect. I don't think that they'll be too onerous. It would be sensible to leave Fleetness, though. Tongues will wag."
<p>
What right had a girl barely a month past her fifteenth birthday to map out another's life? All her confidence and assurance had gone. In a voice quieter than ever she admitted as much. "You are right of course. I certainly don't deserve you."
<p>
"I don't know about 'deserve'. I hope we can remain friends. You need some."
<p>
She bridled at this. Her efforts at flirting when trying to bring him to the point proved that she could easily make friends without help from him. As she was about to articulate her indignation, he interrupted her.
<p>
"Listen, you don't like men because you really prefer women."
<p>
This was an outrage! Her mother had muttered something about a percentage of the population being attracted to their own sex but she had never looked on a woman like that. She said so as forcibly as she could while remembering her mother's axiom that a woman did not shout.
<p>
Rogier laughed. "Not yet perhaps but it is only a matter of time. And don't look so horrified about it. I once told you you were a special girl. Today you asked me to repeat it."
<p>
"Which you did!" There was no way she could have hissed the words more venomously.
<p>
"I did not. All I agreed is that you were special."
<p>
"Don't play word games with me!"
<p>
"The thing is you are not, never have been and I think it highly unlikely you ever will be a girl. You are most definitely a boy."
<p>
"What!" As the word broke from Marienne, all attempt to moderate the level of her tone forgotten, she heard the truth of Rogier's words in her own voice.
<p>
"I wanted to tell you before but I didn?t know how..."
<p>
<DIV align="center">
**********************
<p>
<DIV align="left">
Six years later, now Garion Haste, the former Marienne married an heiress from Sprinton and produced a large family with whom he lived a happy and healthy life before dying suddenly and unexpectedly of a stroke at the age of 96.
<p> <DIV align="center">
**********************
<DIV align="left"> <p>
There is of course a salutary moral to this tale. Never believe anything anybody else tells you. We all have our own agendas!
<p>
訳文
<font face=1><DIV align="center">The Hoyden's Husband<br>
<p>
Part 3 - Happy Ever After
<p>
By Cartland the Barbarian
<p>
<DIV align="left"> <IMG src="Book/fancy_font/u_66x62.dds" width=51 height=61>gh! Rogier's eyes! She had to force herself to look into them without a grimace. But with her parent's relationship as the only model of marriage she had, she accepted that the need to do so would be relatively short.
<p>
At one point she was so uncertain as to whether she could go through with her plan she tried to confide in her chatterbox shop girl. But this girl could not comprehend why Marienne hadn't simply taken him straight to bed. The idea of marrying him she found risible. Hadn't she made it clear? After two years Rogier would exceed the acceptable age, finding arousal increasingly difficult except occasionally with other women whose ages would become younger over time. The shop girl said if she had to marry, she should marry a teenager. A teenager would be easier to train, and would give reasonable service for twenty years before Marienne would need to change to a newer model.
<p>
As Marienne had not contemplated matrimony except as a way to continue the family line, with Rogier's simpering gaze to worry about, twenty years sounded like life imprisonment. Let him get sated within two years, the sooner the better. She would be happy for him to seek pleasure elsewhere once he had given her a son.
<p>
To cajole him into action she began flirting with other men. There had never been any question that it was anyone other than Rogier she would marry but he did not know that. She made herself be charming to a succession of equally sycophantic, adoring young men every one of whom made her cringe.
<p>
Why was it that in the presence of attractive women men were emasculated? Not that the thought of sweaty, armoured soldiers parading their battle scars was any more appealing. Perhaps, once the business of producing an heir was over, she could take time to look for a man she could love. Or at least find one she could like! As Rogier was finally galvanised into proposing by the risk of losing her, she muttered imprecations against her father for putting her into such an unpleasant situation.
<p>
And now, here she was, married to a man whose devotion to her could not be doubted, wishing he'd get on with the job in hand, so she could tell him to go and drown himself.
<p>
Something was amiss. If Rogier had been more communicative it would have been possible to nag the reasons out of him. Perhaps, despite all the effort she had put in to prevent it, he had come to realise the extent to which she loathed him.
<p>
She pushed the salad aside.
<p>
"Rogier," she whispered in her usual tone, "you told me I was a very special girl!"
<p>
Her gaze held him as a ferret's might hold a rabbit. He nodded unhappily and managed to get out the word 'special'.
<p>
She went on: "You said I was in a league of my own, beyond comparison, unique. Didn稚 you mean it?"
<p>
After a great deal of hesitation and several incoherent openings he managed: "It's true."
<p>
"Then why won't you make love to me?"
<p>
There was another long struggle before he came out with the admission: "I can't."
<p>
She was incensed. It took all her training for her to keep her voice low. "What do you mean can't? You have fathered 79 children..."
<p>
"Ninety-three."
<p>
"...whatever. There is no question of 'can't'!"
<p>
He must have realized that something more was needed. With a supreme effort he constructed a sentence.
<p>
"You don't like men, do you?"
<p>
She was so surprised at hearing more than three words together she almost forgot to register the question. It would have been easy to dismiss it with a laugh but if he was forcing himself to make an effort it would not hurt her to be gracious. After giving it a fair amount of thought, she answered: "I am not sure whether it is true to say I don't like men. What I will agree is that I haven稚 yet found one I would be comfortable with in bed."
<p>
"Including me?"
<p>
She had gone too far to lie now. "Including you."
<p>
He regarded her in silence for several minutes, their eyes locked as if he was trying to see inside her soul. This expression was far less sickening than the usual witless ogling. Perhaps there were depths to him he had not yet shown.
<p>
Eventually he settled back in his chair. If anything her candour had made him the more relaxed. He asked: "Your story?"
<p>
And she told him. The more she explained the more ashamed she became. How had her actions been anything other than dishonourable? He would not possible want her as a mother for his children now. She could have held a lot back and yet once started she could not contemplate the thought of cheating him again. Let him hate her, divorce her if he must, he would hear it all.
<p>
Rather surprisingly he did not storm out of the tavern the moment she finished. He ran his hand through his glossy hair and said slowly: "It's a problem."
<p>
There was nothing she could add to that. Telling the full story had been draining. She would like to have retired to bed. She could tell that it was quite the wrong moment to propose such a course. Then he seemed to come to a decision. With a complete change in manner he leaned towards her, purposefully and said: "You get a letter from your father, a man you have never seen and who avoided you as if you had the plague. You instantly do as the letter commands. Why?"
<p>
She gaped at him. It was not the question that shocked her - it was perfectly reasonable under the circumstances - but that he was capable of lucid speech. She shut her mouth and shook herself. She must be the one that seemed moronic now.
<p>
"I would answer your question if I could. It is something I have asked myself too. Unfortunately I do not know what to say. All I can guess is that I felt a need to please my father so that he might accept me. My mother spoke much and often of his 'family'. She was scathing about it. Yet I rather liked the idea of being a part of something that had gone on for hundreds if not thousands of years. Perhaps it is nothing more than a justification for my life but I wanted to stay a part of it. As you know, our marriage agreement insists that all children will keep the Haste family name."
<p>
He smiled at her. For the first time it was a smile of friendship, not a moue of lust. If he could stay that way, Marienne saw, she could certainly get to like him. Love still seemed a long way away.
<p>
"Your children will have your family name," Rogier averred. "But you will not be having any children with me."
<p>
It was worse than being kicked in the stomach. Just as she was beginning to think the marriage might not have been such a mistake after all, he shattered every illusion.
<p>
He was still talking. "We'll need to go through a few legal hoops, I expect. I don't think that they'll be too onerous. It would be sensible to leave Fleetness, though. Tongues will wag."
<p>
What right had a girl barely a month past her fifteenth birthday to map out another's life? All her confidence and assurance had gone. In a voice quieter than ever she admitted as much. "You are right of course. I certainly don't deserve you."
<p>
"I don't know about 'deserve'. I hope we can remain friends. You need some."
<p>
She bridled at this. Her efforts at flirting when trying to bring him to the point proved that she could easily make friends without help from him. As she was about to articulate her indignation, he interrupted her.
<p>
"Listen, you don't like men because you really prefer women."
<p>
This was an outrage! Her mother had muttered something about a percentage of the population being attracted to their own sex but she had never looked on a woman like that. She said so as forcibly as she could while remembering her mother's axiom that a woman did not shout.
<p>
Rogier laughed. "Not yet perhaps but it is only a matter of time. And don't look so horrified about it. I once told you you were a special girl. Today you asked me to repeat it."
<p>
"Which you did!" There was no way she could have hissed the words more venomously.
<p>
"I did not. All I agreed is that you were special."
<p>
"Don't play word games with me!"
<p>
"The thing is you are not, never have been and I think it highly unlikely you ever will be a girl. You are most definitely a boy."
<p>
"What!" As the word broke from Marienne, all attempt to moderate the level of her tone forgotten, she heard the truth of Rogier's words in her own voice.
<p>
"I wanted to tell you before but I didn稚 know how..."
<p>
<DIV align="center">
**********************
<p>
<DIV align="left">
Six years later, now Garion Haste, the former Marienne married an heiress from Sprinton and produced a large family with whom he lived a happy and healthy life before dying suddenly and unexpectedly of a stroke at the age of 96.
<p> <DIV align="center">
**********************
<DIV align="left"> <p>
There is of course a salutary moral to this tale. Never believe anything anybody else tells you. We all have our own agendas!
<p>
