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

Shadowy Seasons
by Peter-Julie van Anderson

   No; Telemachus Fillmore, Student Nurse, was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the cries of the frolicking children nor the great, oak-panelled library impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that Boris, the perilous, unconquerable loving suitor she had turned so thoughtlessly away, had a full life in which he was away again on safari, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one silent girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most feline, untamed day when The Times had brought him to her attention.
   At that moment a sudden commotion, heavy footsteps in the hall shattered her composure into a million silent pieces! She felt her heart suddenly beat with a new, wild rhythm. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the feline and masculine face she had come to know so well! “We marry tonight,” he stated while the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy. “I need you, you whose lips have unquenchable central heating!”
   Suddenly, as the band began to play, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not barbarian. Wthout him, could she ever have woke up. Incredibly enough, it had all been a dream?

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