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Matthew!"
    Although her words were muffled, Jason heard them. He didn't stop to wonder if he might be intruding on a private matter, though, but gave a shout and threw himself into the fray.
    It was obvious the three miscreants didn't expect him. Two of the men froze at Jason's shout—but the other one, the one holding a wicked-looking short sword, wheeled about. Jason had a pistol in his belt, but he wouldn't use it for fear of hitting the woman. He did have the advantages of surprise and sheer size, though.
    Dodging a nasty thrust, he leveled a well-aimed kick at the first man, sending the hanger clanging to the cobblestones, then delivered a blow to the man's stomach that doubled him over. His grunt of pain was cut off abruptly as Jason's powerful fist contacted his jaw with a bone-crushing jar. He fell heavily to the pavement and stayed there, not moving.
    Jason was flexing his aching knuckles in satisfaction when a cry from the woman alerted him to a new threat. He turned just as a second man rushed him. Reacting instinctively, Jason ducked the swinging fist and bent low to grasp the man about the thighs. Then he straightened, sending his attacker hurtling over his left shoulder to land head-first on the cobblestones. The audible crack told Jason that the fellow would be out of commission for a time, and he turned to the third.
    The remaining vagrant was having a difficult time with his intended victim, Jason realized with sudden amusement. A moment ago the man had been trying to drag her away, but now it looked as if he were the defendant. The woman was struggling fiercely, scratching and kicking and clutching at his arms, successfully preventing him from either joining the fight against her rescuer or making an escape. She was taller than her attacker, Jason saw with surprise, but she hadn't enough weight behind her for her blows to do any real damage.
    The next instant Jason was cursing himself for his hesitation. The man, in an attempt to protect his face from her clawing nails, had raised his arms and spun around, hitting the woman's chin with his elbow and knocking her down.
    Jason waited no longer. With a fury he couldn't explain, he leapt after her assailant, tackling him and bringing him to the ground. Shifting his body, Jason drove his fists again and again into the man's face, finally stopping when his opponent was rendered completely senseless. Only then did Jason feel his anger ebb.
    He was breathing hard after his exertions and his knuckles were bruised and bloody, but he felt better than he had all evening. Struggling to his feet, he staggered over to the woman. She was still lying where she had fallen, and he stood over her, swaying, trying to come to some decision about what to do with her. The street was hardly the place to go about reviving her. There was his ship, of course, but he had never before allowed a woman on board, nor would he allow his men to do so. That left only Lila, for he doubted if any of the respectable hotels would welcome an unconscious female and a sea captain who had just been in a street brawl, even should he be able to find one quickly. He wouldn't even consider his father's London townhouse in the West End.
    Wondering wryly if he was making a big mistake, Jason scooped the still figure up in his arms. She was lighter than he had expected, but well curved beneath the voluminous cloak. As yet he couldn't see her clearly, but he didn't stop to look, for just then a roisterous group of seamen spilled onto the street from another tavern. Quickly Jason turned and made his way back to the alley, slipping into the darker shadows before he could be seen.
    He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and carefully skirted the cat who growled in protest at being disturbed again, then set out for Madame Fanchon's establishment.
    As he moved away from the waterfront, the neighborhood began to take on a slightly less disreputable appearance. The cobbled streets became wider, though still