Page 86 of Juliet's Touch

Juliet was correct. He would not destroy his life over a pile of rubbish like Riley. He let go of the hair in his fist. Riley’s face hit the ground with a satisfyingthud.

The Lord of Depravity whimpered like a child.

With his knee between Riley’s shoulder blades, Eric tugged his prisoner’s wrists behind his back, then tied them together. He used his blade to cut a piece of rope long enough to cinch Riley’s legs and ankles. Satisfied that his prisoner was securely bound, Eric considered what he should do with the lout.

Throwing him in the Thames with rocks in his pockets held appeal, as did dipping him in whale oil and tossing a lit candle on him. Burning him alive in his secret chambers had the added benefit of destroying the repulsive paintings scattered about the room.

“Are you sure I can’t kill him?” Eric asked Juliet, even though he knew the answer.

“Well, bloody hell,” someone called from beneath the archway. “Looks like you didn’t need our help.” Fletcher and his goons strolled into the room.

“He is killing me,” Riley said between whimpers.

At least that is what Eric thought he said. It was difficult to tell since the second Riley made audible sounds, Eric smashed the reprobate’s face into the carpeting and jammed his knee into his shoulder blades as hard as he could.

Riley groaned.

“How did you find us?” Eric asked.

“I stopped by The Pink Petal to deliver news,” Fletcher said. “Of course, you weren’t there, and everyone seemed to be in a state. Athena finally told me what happened.” Fletcher glared at his men before sliding his gaze back to Eric. “Riley wasn’t supposed to come near you or The Pink Petal.”

“We explained all of that already, your kingship,” one of his goons said. “’Twasn’t our fault. We waited outside his fancy townhouse. How were we supposed to know he wasn’t there? We told ye as soon as we realized he wasn’t at home. Well, we got something to eat first, then we told ye. Ye don’t expect us to starve, do ye?”

Fletcher clenched his jaw.

“Thank you,” Juliet said sweetly. “All of you.”

Juliet’s graciousness seemed to diffuse the tension between the three newcomers.

Fletcher inclined his chin toward Juliet as he approached Eric. “See to Miss Coldpepper. I’ll take over with our prisoner.”

Eric leaped off Riley and ran to Juliet. Working both quickly and carefully, he cut through her bindings. Lifting her out of the chair, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head half a dozen times as she clung to him.

Fletcher’s tall companion picked a painting up off the floor and stared at it. “Naked people.”

Juliet shivered.

“Can I keep it, Guv?” he asked.

Fletcher rolled his eyes. “It’s evidence.”

Palm up, the man presented the room. “Ain’t ye got enough evidence?”

“Can I have one too?” The man with the curling mustache picked up a canvas and studied it. “Bollocking bollocks. This one makes me skin crawl.” He dropped it and kept searching.

“Neither of you are taking home a memento,” Fletcher said.

“Damnations, doesn’t he just have something of a pretty naked chit with big teets?” the mustached man said.

The tall man looked at his painting again. “Holy, hell. I think she’s dead. I changed me mind. I don’t want it.” He tossed the picture into the corner, then shook his head. “Aristocrats are odd buggers, the lot of them. Except you, Guv.”

Fletcher sucked on the inside of his cheek.

“We know. Ye aren’t an aristocrat,” the mustachioed man said, sarcasm oozing. He looked over his shoulder to mouth to Eric and Juliet, “Just half an aristocrat, this one.” He thumbed at Fletcher.

Huffing indignantly, Fletcher hoisted the battered lord onto his feet.

Eric regarded Riley’s face, taking satisfaction in the damage he’d inflicted.