Pricing The Heart

Chapter 1

And Eloise was unwilling to concede.

Burying her nails in his arm that clawed her hair, she spat in his eyes.

He growled, his fingers untangling from her hair as he jumped back. She fell to the floor, scrapping her knees on the floorboards. Winded, she clawed at the halter, only pausing when she heard James approaching once more. Her heart dropped as she braced herself for the impact of his fists.

"That is enough," a voice boomed, silencing the laughter in the room and forcing James to a halt.

Stifling a sob, she stretched her battered form on the floorboards as a loud pounding sound echoed in the room. She shifted her gaze in the direction of the sound, seeing then an unfamiliar pair of ankle-length boots connected to a matching pair of black trousers. The candlelights reflected off of the silver buttons that lined the sides of his boots as he neared, and when he paused before her, she welcomed the fresh scent of soap, aftershave and wood.

He crouched down, and she took in his features. His straight charcoal hair was parted to the side, the portion of it that fell to his forehead contrasting perfectly with his pale skin. The hard lines around his thin lips and thick brows made him appear much older than she suspected as he frowned down at her, and his slightly crooked nose appeared to have been broken in the past.

Eloise thought he was handsome, but it was his eyes, misty gray as the clouds in a thunderstorm, that sucked her in like a tornado.

He buried his hand in his black traveling coat and pulled out a white handkerchief. Reaching forward, he dabbed her chin with it.

Confused, she watched him as he cleaned the blood off of her face. Who was he?—she wondered, even if she felt no urge to resist his touch, for he was different. He felt different. His touch was gentle, calming her battered heart as it pounded painfully against her ribcage. And for a second, as she sat staring at him, she forgot where she was and why she was here...until he spoke.

"This is no way to die." His warm breath tickled her face, concern creasing his brows. She knew it was concern because his gaze held no anger in them. Still, she found no logical reason for his concern. He didn't know her, nor was it his place to interfere in another man's dealings with his wife. James would have beaten her to a coma and no one would have interfered—no one but this concerned stranger.

When was the last time anyone showed concern for her? She shook her head to keep her tears from falling. "It is no way to live," she whispered.

He held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, the faces in the crowded room slowly fading until all that was left was him...until Eloise thought she could stare into his eyes forever.

When he turned from her, his gaze drifted to James, his frown deepening, the muscle in his chiseled jaw twitching. Then he turned back to her, his eyes clouding with something she couldn't read.

"Perhaps," he murmured, releasing her chin. Tucking the bloody handkerchief in his pocket, he rose to his feet. Eloise felt a stab of disappointment as she watched him turn around, even if she didn't know why she was disappointed.

"If he's not takin' ya, you're goin' with the man over there. There's no way in hell I'm lettin' ya drive the price further down!" James barked, grabbing her arm and forcing her to her feet. Pain shot through her arm muscles, but she cared nothing for the pain, because her eyes—her heart—remained stubbornly fixed on the strange man who was now leaving the room.

She couldn't let him go, she thought, as he made his way through the parted crowd to the door. Fear quickened her heart, but it was desperation that tore her lips apart as she cried, "One shilling!"

A/N

Hey lovelies!

Before we go into this story, I would just love to take a second to discuss the inspiration behind it.

While I was doing a little research, I came across a Victorian practice I didn't even know existed; wife selling! They actually sold women! Horrendous, I know! But I also thought it would make for a lovely romance story. So, once I was done writing the story I had been researching for when I discovered the practice, I decided to dig deep into the practice and see what it was about. And can I just say I found some amazing true stories!

Wife selling was a sort of cheap alternative to a divorce. Seeing as divorce was expensive and almost unattainable, people just resorted to selling their wives (popular amongst the lowest class). There was no law against wife selling, neither was there a law for it. The contracts were legally binding, however, so technically, she was yours, but not she was also not your wife. Kind of like a lacuna in the law that the people just took advantage of.

Thank you for reading. Do let me know what you think of this chapter.