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had been disturbing him all evening. Rather, it was his odd presentiment. For the past few hours he had known that once he left the ship, his life would somehow change. And seeing the cloaked woman had only strengthened that feeling.
    A balmy breeze ruffled Jason's gilded chestnut hair as he stood watching her vanish into the night, his strong, well- shaped hands lightly gripping the railing. Behind him, he could sense Tim Sutter's presence, could feel the boy's questioning gaze on his back.
    "Maybe we shouldn't let her go, Cap'm ," Tim suggested hesitantly. "She said some coves were after her."
    Although normally he deplored impulsiveness, Jason had already decided to follow her. Rescuing damsels in distress wasn't his line, but he had no intention of letting her roam the streets alone at night, not in this wretched neighborhood, where thieves and procurers waited to prey on the innocent and unsuspecting. She was singularly lucky to have made it this far; even though the Thames River Police patrolled the docks and the parish constabulary boasted a large force of night watchmen, Jason himself never went unarmed. But in addition to wanting to protect her, he was more than a little curious about her startled reaction to hearing his name.
    "I'll see to her, lad," Jason replied, dismissing the cabin boy. "You'd best return to your rounds."
    "Aye, sir."
    Making his way quickly down the gangway to the quay, Jason vaulted up the steps and crossed the wharf, passing through the wall gate in time to spy the cloaked figure some distance to his right. He had no trouble following her. Not only was she favoring her right leg, which made her easy to distinguish even in darkness, but Jason had experience tracking far more elusive game, having learned the skill from an American trapper during a year spent in the wilderness of the northern territories.
    He kept her in sight, pondering her reaction as he strode briskly along the narrow, twisting streets. He found it odd that she had recoiled from him in fear. Women generally responded far differently to him. And to his knowledge, there was nothing in his reputation to make her afraid of him.
    He was accustomed to being a target of speculation, of course; to his crew he was a renegade nobleman's son, a rebel and an adventurer. And some of the stories about him were even true. He was the younger son of the wealthy Marquess of Effing , and he had left home to escape his father's dictates— although he hadn't been disinherited when he took to the sea, as was rumored. For a short time Jason had been an officer in the Royal Navy, but his father's influence with the Admiralty had ended his hopes for a career spent in battle. He had gone to America shortly thereafter, where he'd begun building his fortune.
    There were any number of rumors about how he had come by the Leucothea —that he had captured her, that he had won her at cards, that he had killed a man in a duel and spirited the ship away. But he had purchased the brig in America with some lucky winnings.
    He was young for a captain, even now, when he was a few years shy of thirty. But he had found that command came naturally to him. His powerful physique and air of authority had gained him immediate attention—although he had had to earn the respect of his crew, all seasoned tars who accepted his leadership with wariness.
    It was because of his inexperience at sea that he had formed the partnership with Kyle Ramsey and learned how to sail. Although an unusual arrangement, he and Ramsey made a good team. Kyle knew how to outrace a storm and plot a course through shallows better than any captain alive, and Jason knew men.
    He had returned to England then, and for two years had fought the war in his own way: aiding British troops by transporting much-needed weapons and supplies across the channel, and harrying French vessels whenever the opportunity arose. His uncanny ability to outguess the enemy, combined with Kyle's navigational skill and