Mystical Love

by Stephy Smith

  Mystical Love

  by Stephy Smith

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  MYSTICAL LOVE

  Copyright © 2013 STEPHY SMITH

  ISBN 978-1-62135-121-4

  Cover Art Designed by For the Muse Designs

  To the two who inspired the creation of Mystical Love- Cali Gilmore and Jessika Gilmore.

  Stephanie Taylor and Astraea Press, thank you for believing in me.

  To the good Lord above who brought us all together.

  Chapter One

  1870 East Texas

  “Isn’t it beautiful here, Sierra?” Aisley glanced at the moss swaying from the cypress limbs overhead. The cool grass cushioned her bare feet as she circled a cypress tree. She reached out her hand and trailed her fingertips across the rough bark. Her thoughts turned to the bronzed face of the man working close to the lake.

  “I like it. Tell me about this boy you met.” Sierra gathered her long auburn hair and held it to one side of her face. Aisley glanced at her friend and then back toward the sunrise. How could Sierra refer to him as a boy? She hadn’t seen him, but Aisley had. He was nothing less than a grown man. Aisley’s breath caught as golden ripples shimmered across Caddo Lake in east Texas. A slight breeze whipped down the paths of the black cypress and vanished. The faint sound of fish splashing drowned out the buzz of the insects. The coolness of the fallen log they sat on seeped through the thick layer of her skirts.

  “All I know is he works on the bayou somewhere.”

  Aisley shivered as she replayed the image of the broad-chested man. Droplets of sweat had dripped from his dark, shoulder-length hair. Her heart had skipped a beat when he’d rested his ax on one of the stumps. She’d moved closer to the tree as his brown eyes scanned the forest. He’d lifted his hand and wiped his brow. For a few seconds his gaze had remained on the tree she’d been hiding behind. A faint smile had played across his face. Then he’d turned back to his wood chopping.

  Had he known she was there? A lump had formed in her throat as she scanned the length of his body. He’d swung his mighty ax against a log. His muscles had jumped and shimmied with each swing. The material of his trousers had stretched taut across his thick thighs. Aisley’s knees had grown weak as she’d leaned into the tree until the strength built in her legs. She’d watched him for a few more seconds, then she’d pushed away from the trunk and turned down the path.

  “Did you talk to him?” The warmth of Sierra’s small hand pulled Aisley from her memory. Sierra’s brown eyes were wide and her brows were lifted.

  “No. I think he’s a gaje. He’s like the rest,” Aisley sighed. If he were a non-Gypsy, she wouldn’t be able to trust the man. Something familiar about him held her thoughts and fantasies. Even if he were a gaje.

  “It’s probably best you didn’t talk to him,” Sierra waved her hand in the air.

  “I know,” her words were barely audible. She stood and gazed out across the lake before she stepped next to Sierra to make their way back to the camp.

  It was only a matter of time before they would have to leave the area. That was the way it had always been for the Gypsies. They were always on the move, running from the hatred of the gaje. Aisley’s heart clenched. She loved it here and hoped they would be able to stay awhile.

  Shadows played across the path. The crisp morning air refreshed Aisley’s lungs. She entered the clearing of the camp and strolled to her mother’s side. If only Aisley could talk to her mother about the strange attraction to the man, she could sort out her confusion. But to do so would be a bitter mistake. It could cause her downfall within the clan. To befriend a gaje was against Gypsy rules.

  “Did you enjoy the sunrise this morning?” Aisley’s mother, Rosanna, sat on a stump weaving a basket. “Aisley, am I going to get an answer today?”

  “It was rinkini,” Aisley said. “Like the coins in my hair. Beautiful.” She twirled in a circle and then leaned down and kissed her mother’s cheek.

  “Don’t get used to it, my daughter.” Her father, Aleandro, hammered a piece of metal into a horseshoe. Aisley strolled the short distance. He leaned down and she placed a quick kiss on his sweaty face. She laughed as a smile formed on his weatherworn features.

  The thumps of a horse’s hooves pounded upon the ground. Aisley glanced around at the rest of the clan. All eyes stared down the small road where they had brought in the Gypsy wagons or vardos.

  A young man trotted along on a sturdy horse. His back was straight, his shoulders squared, and his hand rested on his thigh. His dark brown hair waved in the wind and exposed his oval face. It was him! The man with the ax.

  The clan’s look of concern was evident as he made his way to the clearing.

  Aisley’s breath caught in her throat. She watched until the long sturdy legs of the young man cleared the horse and his feet were firmly on the ground. His handsome, reserved face turned to the clan, and she waited, wondering if he was going to speak. Her heart pounded. What is he doing here? Did he follow me here and now wants to cause trouble for my family?

  “I’m looking for Aleandro Smith.” His voice faded into a steely silence. The stranger looked to the faces of the members of the caravan.

  “What do you want of him?” Aleandro approached the young stranger.

  “I’m Sam Grey. My father, Oscar, sent me. We’re camped two days from here. May we join up with your clan?” Sam’s husky voice sent shivers down Aisley’s spine. She tamped out the desire to squeal out her joy that he wasn’t a gaje.

  “Ah, yes, you may bring my old friend Oscar Grey and his familia to join us,” Aleandro said, then smiled at the young man.

  “Will you be able to wait for us? We’re a party of five and vulnerable. My familia is traveling as we speak. I need to get back to them.” Sam shifted his weight to the other foot. His gaze turned back in the direction he came from.

  “We will watch for your return,” Aleandro said, patting Sam on the back. Sam mounted his horse and rode out of the camp.

  Aisley scooted closer to Sierra. She laid her hand upon her friend’s arm and gave a nod toward the dark haired stranger. “That was him,” she whispered. “I’m happy he isn’t a gaje.”

  A light flutter settled in her stomach. Her breathing returned to normal and the pounding in her chest quieted. She lifted her hand and tangled her fingers in a long strand of her hair.

  “I would be leery of him. He will break the hearts of many young women.” Sierra wagged an accusing finger in the direction of the fading rider.

  Aisley watched as Sierra strolled toward her parents, and then she headed to the back of her vardo. Her own parents were talking quietly and she stopped to listen.

  “I know that look, Aleandro. What have you done?” Rosanna’s soft but stern voice dominated the small area.

  “You know me too well, Rosanna. I think the young man is fit for our daughter.” Aleandro faced her mother and planted a gentle kiss on her gorgeous face. “The poor boy will have his hands full with our Aisley, don’t you think?”

  Aisley backed away from the vardo. Did they really think she was hard to manage? They had never complained before. What did they mean when they said the young man was fit for her? She scurried down the path h
eaded for the lake with her basket, to pick berries and think.

  Was it this young man, Sam, or was it someone else they had in mind for her to marry? What if she didn’t want the man of their choice and wanted to choose her own husband? Would they disown her and kick her out of the clan?

  She snatched handful after handful of berries and ripped them from the bush. “If you picked Sam for me and I don’t like him, at least he’s nice to look at. I can always leave and join another caravan somewhere if I am so much trouble,” she whispered to the berry bush. With a full basket of berries, she turned from the bush.

  With purposeful strides, she headed back to the camp. A couple of women tossed in a few rabbits while she poured her basket of berries into the large black communal kettle. Sierra poured in a basket of leafy greens.

  In a couple of days, Sam Grey and his family would be joining the clan. “Isn’t it grand, Aisley? I love when a new family joins us. We always have wonderful celebrations to welcome them.” Sierra smiled.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of his family.” Aisley’s anger turned into curiosity as she thought about Sam. What was it about this man that intrigued her?

  If only she could run her fingers through his hair, or lean into his warm embrace and be comforted by his smile, all would be well. Or would it? Would her parents still think she was hard to manage? They would be rid of her and then she’d be Sam’s problem.

  Her mother approached her from the side. Aisley stood at the bottom of the steps of the vardo.

  “Mama, I don’t think I wish to marry.”

  “Has something happened? When you were a young child you couldn’t wait to have a husband and children.” Rosanna’s eyes narrowed and her brow wrinkled.

  “I do not wish to be a burden for anyone.” From the look on her mother’s face Aisley knew her mother was concerned and confused by her outburst. Her parents’ words had stung. She tried to hide the hurt from her voice.

  “Where did you get the idea you would be a burden?”

  “I heard you and Papa. You both think I am hard to manage.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Oh Aisley, at times you are very stubborn. But, you are not hard to manage. You know your father and I love you. We count our blessings every day and you are the main one.” Rosanna pulled Aisley into a hug.

  The warmth of her mother’s embrace erased her doubts of what she had been thinking. Of course, her parents loved her. She knew all parents think their children were a bit hard to manage and, as an only child, she guessed she may have been harder than most. Rosanna smiled as she walked away to greet one of the women in the clan.

  Aisley walked up the steps, retrieved her bowl from the vardo, and filled it with the stew from the pot. Carrying it across the camp, she sat next to Sierra and a few of the other girls of the clan. Talk of Sam Grey spread amongst the group.

  “I think he may be spoken for.” Sierra glanced toward Colleen and Jenny, two of the teenage girls.

  “Whoever spoke for him is one lucky woman.” Colleen nodded to Jenny, who was also nodding.

  “What do you know about boys? Have you been in search of a husband already?” Aisley joked. Colleen and Jenny were too young to have an interest in a boy of Sam’s age.

  “I know enough to know Sam Grey is no boy!” Colleen raised her voice.

  “It’s never too early to search for a husband…is it?” Jenny’s brows crinkled.

  “Indeed it is, for you two. You should be looking at boys your own age and wondering what they are going to look like in a few more years. I’ll bet Sam Grey was as awkward as… little Tomas Porter.” Aisley nudged Sierra in the side.

  “And, if Tomas works hard—really hard—he can grow big muscles like Sam Grey’s,” Sierra said.

  Aisley choked on a bite of the stew. Poor little Tomas would never be as husky and strong as Sam. He was a small sickly boy when he was born. It was a miracle the child had lived. Still, Tomas was a handsome young man despite all the setbacks in his young life.

  Colleen and Jenny gathered their bowls and headed to the hot pot of water. They whispered and took turns glancing toward Tomas Porter. Aisley stifled a giggle. It hadn’t been that many years ago when she and Sierra were the same age as Colleen and Jenny.

  After finishing her meal, Aisley strolled down to the lake. The sun started its descent. Clouds lit up like bright candles with a mix of white and grays. A few orange rays from the sun peeked over the tops, making them appear as if they were on fire.

  The next two days turned into a rushed frenzy. Aisley busied herself alongside her mother and the other women of the caravan to prepare for the arrival of the Grey family.

  She couldn’t wait to see the bronzed face of the handsome Gypsy. Her heart pounded as she set about collecting extra berries and leafy greens to add to the pot. Aisley put in long hours attaching the gold her father had hammered into coins for her brightly colored skirts.

  When the day arrived for the Grey family to appear, she was ready to greet them.

  “Aisley, do you think Sam will notice one of us?” Sierra’s face turned pink. She glanced down the road where they last seen Sam.

  Aisley couldn’t stand the thought of Sam noticing someone other than her. It had never crossed her mind he would be interested in one of the other girls. She sighed heavily and clamped her mouth shut. Just because she had seen him first didn’t mean a thing… to anyone except her.

  “I don’t know. There was something distant about him when he was here.”

  Sierra walked beside Aisley down to the lake. The air was still warm from the afternoon heat. A cool breeze penetrated the shade of the large cypress trees. They sat on the fallen log they always shared on the bank.

  “Have you heard who Sam’s prospective wife could be?” From the way her parents had been talking, it was Aisley, but she had to make sure to settle her own curiosity. Why should she waste her time trying to impress a man who was meant for some other young woman who was just as deserving as she was?

  “You. That’s the rumor I’m getting anyway. No one has said if it’s true or not. I know my folks have pre-arranged my wedding, but they haven’t revealed to me who he is or when I’ll meet him.” Sierra glanced toward the lake.

  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 cou
ldn’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.

  Chapter Two

  The campfire glowed as the men played lively music. The vardos formed a comforting recess. Sam helped the men removed the large black pot. He then tossed more wood into the fire. Soon the flames roared, crackled, and popped as the welcome party began.

  Sam couldn’t pull his eyes away from Aisley. The entrancing music had obviously beckoned her to the fire. Her thick dark hair hung in graceful curls as the coins in the long tresses lightly jingled. Her deep brown eyes filled with passion before she closed her thick lashed lids and let the music take over her body.

  Swaying gracefully, her jeweled fingers and arms made seductive moves above her tilted head. Her round hips shimmered with the golden ornaments on her layered skirts, as she circled the edge of the flickering flames. In his mind, she was dancing for him, pouring her heart out to him, begging him to join her in dance as she made the circle around the outside of the orange and blue flames.