Chapter two

                                    

                                          
            Isabella walked out of the book shop, her nose in a book and her eyes glued to the pages. She expertly weaved her way through the crowds of people, not bothering to look up from her book, and narrowly missing a chamber pot being emptied out a window. She stopped as a cart drove by in front of her, and heard people whispering about her right behind her. She wasn't what the people in her village called "normal". They found her love of reading strange and generally looked down on her because her father, Henry, was the poorest merchant in the village. They also found it unusual, if not scandalous, that she was 20 years old and unmarried.
                          
            Her mother died right after she was born. And while she and her father were once wealthy, they lost it all when bandits attacked a very expensive shipment of his. They had just enough money to pay for the farm they lived on; and while they didn't have to worry much about food, most of it went to paying off taxes. After the prince locked himself away in his castle, the lords had taken over in his place. Thay had implemented more taxes and generally caused the kingdom to come to a worse state than when the prince was ruling. Life had become much harder for them, but they got by and she was happy. She believed that as long as she had books and her father, she would always be happy.
                          
            She ran into someone's hard chest as they stepped out right in front of her and took the book right out of her hands.  She looked up to see who it was and saw Richard; the son of the richest merchant in town and easily the handsomest and strongest man in the village as well. He had raven black hair that was tied back, piercing blue eyes, tanned skin, and looked as though he were made of muscle. He was handsome and her knew it, and flaunted it. Although to Isabella, he was nothing but self-centered, haughty, vain, and selfish. She doubted he even knew the meaning of the word humble.
                          
            "Hello, Isabella," Richard said, a cocky grin on his face as he hid the book behind his back. "My, you look beautiful today. Almost as beautiful as me."
            "Thank you, Richard," she said, putting on the realist fake smile she could muster. "Could I have my book back please?" She reached to grab it from him, but he, being much taller than her, was easily able to keep it out of her grasp. 
                          
            "Right after you and I spend some time together at the tavern. We can talk about you, me, us... me," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. She looked around to see several girls glaring at her. He always tried to flirt with her and had tried every way he could to court her. He would show up to her farm at night with a bard, he would give her gifts, most having to do with him. He even went as far as asking her father for her hand in marriage. He just would not give up and could not take a hint. She didn't understand why he insisted on trying to marry her, out of all the girls in the village pinning for his attention, just because he said she was the most beautiful girl in the village.
                          
            "As amazing as that sounds, Richard," she said, removing his arm from her shoulder and quickly grabbing her book from his other hand. "I am afraid I cannot. My father is about to leave for a trip, and I would like to wish him luck before he leaves. Then I have chores to do on the farm. So I am sorry, but I cannot. Farewell." As she finished talking, she started to back up, then turned and ran; trying to get as far away from him as possible.
                          
            "Oh, next time then," Richard said as she ran off. 'Not in your dreams,' she thought as his voice became more distant. As she neared her house, she could see their horse and cart already waiting outside for her father. As she walked to the front door, her father came out, a large smile coming to Henry's face as he saw his beautiful, brown eyed daughter. She had his eyes, but her mother's thick, light brown hair. He often noticed how much she looked and acted like her mother.
                          
            Henry had a full head of brown hair, darker than his daughter's light brown hair, and a full beard of the same color. His face and hands were weathered from the sun, age, and hard work; and the hair on his head and beard were lined with gray. Despite his age showing on his face, his eyes danced with the youth he felt inside. "Isabella," he said as they pulled each other into a hug. "How was town?"
                          
            "It was fine," she said. "I got a new book."
            "Oh, you do love those books." he said, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. "Now, I am afraid I must be going if I want to make it to the other town in time."
            "Alright, let me get your bag for you." she said, taking one of the bags from him and loading it into the cart.
                          
            "Thank you, Isabella. You always loved helping me." He loaded his other bag into the cart and climbed into the driver's seat, taking the reins in his hands. "Well, I must be off. Wish me luck."
            "Good luck, father," she said, kissing his sun kissed cheek. "Goodbye," she waved as the cart drove off.
                          
            "Goodbye, Isabella, I will be back in a month." he yelled as the cart got further out of sight. Once she could no longer see the cart, she went inside and grabbed a basket to begin her chores.