The Redemption of Julian Price

“Aye?” He raised his gaze back to her face. “Yer gentleman shouldn’t leave such a pretty piece as yerself all alone.”


“I-I’m not alone,” Henrietta insisted. “My maid is also here with me.” She nodded to Millie across the table, but Millie was trying to catch the serving girl’s attention. Henrietta breathed a sigh of relief when his hand dropped from her arm, only to suck in a deeper gasp as he placed it on the small of her back. She tensed, her mind racing. She briefly considered punching his nose, but it would probably only serve to enrage the brute. Willing herself to remain calm, she said, “Sir, would you kindly remove your hand from my person?”

He released it with a laugh only to clamped his hand on top of hers and pull it beneath the table. “Ye know what this is, missy?” he breathed drunkenly into her ear as he forced her to cup the protrusion between his legs.

Dear God! Did she really have her hand on a man’s . . . Her throat tightened with panic. Where the devil was Julian?

“It’s a piece of your body you are sorely going to miss if you don’t release the lady at once,” a soft but ominous voice replied.

“Julian!” she breathed his name like a prayer.

“Bugger off,” the brute growled. “The lady and I be conversin’.”

“And to think I asked nicely,” Julian drawled.

In the blink of an eye, Julian’s arm encircled her accoster’s neck in a strangle hold. Henrietta gaped as the man’s bloodshot eyes bulged. While one hand tore at Julian’s arm, the other reached into his coat pocket. Was it a weapon? Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Julian!” she cried out in warning.

Visibly tightening his hold, Julian gave a swift backward jerk that unseated the man from the bench. Food and drink took flight. The diners scattered from the table with mixed cries of outrage and indignation. Others surrounded the pair of combatants, watching gape-mouthed while one opportunistic bystander offered to place wagers on the outcome.

Before the brute could even recover his breath, Julian had planted his boot on the man’s throat, “Make one false move and I’ll crush your windpipe,” he threatened, his voice low and his expression murderous. His warm brown eyes appeared black and deadly. Who was this man? If she hadn’t known it was Julian, Henrietta might not even have recognized him.

“Now you and I shall converse,” Julian addressed his adversary as if discussing the weather. “Or better said, I will speak, and you will listen, if you wish me to remove my foot from your throat. There’s a coach in the yard departing for Newcastle. You’ll be leaving on it. Furthermore, you will depart with the knowledge that if I ever see you again, I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” the brute hissed spittle in answer.

“Very well.” Julian leaped back as if releasing a wild beast.

The man reacted much the same, scrambling away on all fours and slobbering like a rabid dog. Grabbing an overturned bench, he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. Eyeing Julian with sheer malevolence, he once more reached inside his pocket, this time retrieving a lethal looking blade. “No one threatens Jemmie Duncan,” he growled, tossing the knife from hand to hand.

“Be there trouble here, gents?” The innkeeper appeared just in time, cocked pistol in hand.

“Mr. Duncan was just leaving,” Julian replied blandly, seemingly unconcerned with the danger.

“Is that so?” the innkeeper replied, eyeing the knife and then training his pistol on Duncan. “Mayhap ye’d like to relieve our friend of his weapon, Mr. Price?”

Duncan’s gaze darted with hatred from one man to the other as Julian removed the knife from his hand and then slid it into his own pocket. “I believe a coach awaits departure.” Julian slipped the innkeeper some coins and nodded to the door. “Pray see that he gets on it.”

“I ain’t headed north,” Duncan growled. “I be going south to Lon’n.”

“Then you will take the scenic route via Newcastle,” Julian replied. “Now go before I put my boot to your arse.”

The innkeeper extended his hand to Duncan. “Since ye’ll not be needing that room now, be kind enough to hand over yer key.”

Glaring at Julian, the man gave it up.

The innkeeper offered it to Julian with a smile. “It looks like we have a room for ye after all, Mr. Price.”

“Thank you.” Julian accepted it with a nod. “Come, Henrietta.” He wrapped his arm protectively around her trembling body.

“Are these places usually so dangerous?” she asked, praying her legs wouldn’t give out as they climbed the narrow staircase to the rooms above.

“I’m sorry for my delay, Hen. I was trying to secure two rooms for the night, but there was nothing—until now.” He dangled the key. “As to your question, it’s always hazardous for a young woman to travel. I should not have left you alone for so long.”