by Stephy Smith
Aisley’s mind wandered. What if Sam didn’t think she was a good wife for him? Would he refuse to marry her? No one had confirmed her suspicions until Sierra mentioned there was a possibility she was the one. Her parents had only hinted she may be the one. If he was coming here to meet his promised wife, and it wasn’t her, then who was she? None of the other girls in the clan had said a word about meeting their future husbands.
The mumbles and roars from the camp almost drowned out the chings and clanks of the approaching wagon.
“They must be here. We better hurry back to camp, Aisley,” Sierra called over her shoulder as she ran down the short path. Aisley drew in a deep breath and smoothed her skirts, then followed her friend. The pulsing of her blood rushed through her veins.
If she were his intended one, she wanted to make an unforgettable impression. Running into camp, falling down and sliding head first in front of him so she could pull herself up next to his gorgeous body wasn’t her style. Neither was puffing out her chest and adding an exaggerated sway to her hips. She giggled to herself and then stepped into the clearing where everyone was gathered. For an instant, she paused at the corner of the vardo. Drawing in a deep breath, she swiped the sweat from her palms as she smoothed her skirts one more time.
Aisley slowly made her way into the camp and received a scornful glare from her mother. She was aware of the eyes following her as she helped herself to the pot of warm, aromatic stew. Her heart was thundering, and her body grew weak as she caught sight of Sam and she feigned indifference. Forcing her eyes to move from the area where he stood, she nodded to one of the other members of the clan.
When Aisley felt it was safe to take a glance at Sam, he was standing near the vardo with his father and hers; then she couldn’t pry her eyes from him. His eyes were hard, passionless and his face was bronzed by the sun. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what they were talking about so secretively. She watched Sam, hoping to catch his eye, wanting desperately to talk to him without seeming too forward. All she could do was admire him from a distance.
Sierra moved easily, but there was impatience in her step as she made her way to Aisley. “He likes you,” she whispered. There was excitement in her voice along with disappointment, and her face flushed as she openly glared at Sam. Aisley covered her mouth with her hand. She was surprised at the intrigue her friend showed toward him.
“Don’t be silly, Sierra. He’s not interested in the least.” Aisley turned her attention to Sam as she spoke. She was confused at not being able to control the emotions building up inside of her. Feelings she had never had before fought their way to the surface, making her feel more alive, but also more cautious of the mere sight of him.
“Just like you’re not interested in the least either, my friend?” Sierra raised her brows. A playful smile crossed her face.