"Oh, Hunter, if I rode into this village with the and killed your people, how would you feel?" His face tightened. "You would kill my mother? Warrior and Maiden? The little ones?" "No. And you wouldn't Aunt Rachel or Amy or Uncle Henry. That isn't the question, is it?" "This Comanche cannot change his face." "And I can't change mine." He traced the hollow of her cheek, his mouth tipping into a sad smile. "I like your face, Blue Eyes. It is carved upon my heart." "We're caught in the middle, aren't we, Hunter? From the first, we knew it would come to this." "I will make no war on the helpless," he whispered raggedly. "No women, no children. That will be good?" Still shy with him, she touched a finger to his bottom lip. "Could you lift your blade against a man with blue eyes and not think of me, Hunter?" He made a strangled sound and pulled her roughly into his arms, pressing his mouth against her hair. Neither of them spoke. There were no words. They drew comfort from the only thing they could, the warmth of each other's arms."