How enraptured I had been when I met the merchant's daughter. Sweet, kind, and quite aloof. With curves unseen yonder these parts. For she was better fed than the women of this town.
Sallow were the peasant women about me, something I had not even realized until I had gazed upon her beauty. When the sun sparkled through the clouds I could see diamonds dancing in her skin. Her warm clay-colored complexion told me that she was of the African Merchant's class. Those who came here to trade their goods. Most of them made fortunes here. However, their daughters were known to be chaste. Aloof as it were, for they were forbidden to meddle with the common folk.
The daughters of wealthy men of their culture required a dowry for their hand. A dowry in which men like me did not possess. How the thought tugged at my heart whenever I saw her.
Amina, the daughter of the West African Merchant. That is all I knew of their origin, that they hailed west of the continent. When I caught glimpses of the merchant's daughter, I saw skin that possessed a richness I scant had seen in these parts. So vibrant, so alive she looked.
High and rounded cheekbones, with pretty eyes that upturned at the corners. Set within them was onyx, or that is what it seemed. For her eyes were as deep and dark as the night and my warmest dreams.
Sometimes, my imagination would get the better of me. Sometimes, I thought of her fingers, the color of freshly tilled and fertile earth, wrapped around mine. Thought of her plush lips pressed against mine. Was her body as warm as her smile?
Oh her smiles, I loved how she smiled at me, seemingly only at me. I knew it was a delusion, but how I hoped. For when she ventured forth with her father, sometimes in the corner of my eye, I could see a sly expression about her face. Making my cheeks warm and my heart beat faster.
I know that she does not truly desire one such as me however, so I must put those feelings aside. For my father is handing the family business off to me and I must make a name for myself. I cannot do that while daydreaming about impossibilities.
Besides, I must collect myself for tomorrow, for her father is buying from the forge today and I must sell these tools to him. This would certainly prove that I am capable of running the forge in my father's footsteps.
The next night:
I sat idly by, waiting for her father to arrive. It had been a private sale arranged after hours. I was taken aback by the sudden knock on the door but I collected myself and answered professionally.
However, instead of her father, it was her. The plump maiden who had captured my attention for so long. How beautiful she looked in the warm glow of the fireplace. Behind her the moon hung heavy in the sky, the pale light hitting the back of her shoulders.
