Except Lucas wasn’t there. Kendra saw a dark object go flying—his hat?—as he swiftly dodged the cudgel. In the same smooth movement, he whipped his dirk from its sheath and slashed down his attacker’s hand, wrist, and side. The man bellowed as the cudgel dropped from his damaged hand and blood sprayed blackly from his wound.

His movements almost too swift to comprehend, Lucas spun to his right and slammed the hilt of his dirk into the temple of the second man. The man gasped with pain and stumbled backward.

The third man yanked out a dagger and lunged at Lucas. There was a swift exchange of thrusts and shrieking metal as Lucas’s weapon blocked his opponent’s shorter blade. The violence ended when a stab from his dirk disabled the other man and the knife dropped to the street with a clatter.

Kendra barely had time to register the danger before the altercation was over and their assailants had fled into the night, leaving only dark splotches of blood on the street. Voice shaky, she said, “Are you all right?”

Lucas stared at the blood, seeming almost as startled by his successful defense against the thieves as Kendra was. “I’m fine. What about you?”

“Shaken, but well enough.” She drew a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Do all Franciscan friars fight as well as you?”

“As I said, I was never a true friar.” He produced a handkerchief and wiped blood from the blade of his dirk before sheathing the weapon and retrieving his fallen hat. After donning it, he offered her his arm. “It’s interesting how the old sailor skills are there when needed.”

“Quick thinking being one of those skills.” She took his arm since her knees were unsteady. “When those men attacked, I was as paralyzed as a rabbit. By the time my mind started working again, you’d dispatched all three of the villains.”

“Reacting quickly to danger is developed by practice. Be grateful you haven’t needed to attain that particular skill,” he said dryly. “Fortunately, Duval House is just around the corner. I’ve had enough fresh air for the moment.”

As they resumed walking, she said, “We escaped unscathed, so I guess this little incident qualifies as interesting rather than disastrous.”

“Any fight one can walk away from is a good fight.”

After a dozen silent steps, she said quietly, “You’ve lived several very different lives, haven’t you?”

Another dozen steps before he replied, “Yes, and I need to get those different parts of my past into harmony with each other. The naval officer and the Franciscan are opposites. The prisoner of war . . .” He shook his head and said no more.

She thought about his words. Her ally was a most interestingly complicated man. That must be why he was so accepting of her.

And thank heaven for that! She needed as many allies as she could find.

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 6