For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Illicit, Unknowable Shadow
by Elton Trudeau

   No; Roger was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the scent of almond blossoms and frangipani nor the Red Chamber, remembering its bloody history impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the Chief’s handsome son, the intensely undeniable man she had belonged to so completely, had a full life in which he was lost forever in the wilds of the Amazon, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one tenebrous girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most subterranean, remarkable day when The Times had brought him to her attention.
   Abruptly, a knock at the door shattered her composure into a million unknowable pieces! She whirled around. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the final and masculine face she had come to know so well! “I’ve been mad, simply mad, without you to douse my fires,” he mumbled with a confidence that brooked neither denial nor disagreement while he once again began to woo her with the sensual voice of his Stradivarius. “I need you, my Oriental pearl!”
   Just then, as the truth — the whole truth — slowly came home to her, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not illicit. Wthout him, could she ever have knew that at last he was hers — and that only death could part them?

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