"You got no choice, girl. Don't think ya do. He's not treatin' ya too bad right now, but as God is my witness, he will. Just pray you go before they start in on ya." He swallowed again. "I don't know why he's held off. Maybe he's takin' you back to his village for some kinda ceremony or somethin'--to his squaws. Or maybe he just fancies a wife with golden hair. Either way, believe me when I say dyin' of thirst will be kinder." Loretta hugged herself. She understood. She understood all too well. Moments later Hunter came back and jerked the furs out from under Tom's legs. With his usual arrogance, he motioned for Loretta to follow him and walked away into the shadows at the far side of the fire. A flush stole up her neck as she rose to go with him. Tom was watching. That made her sleeping with the Comanche seem all the more shameful. She didn't dare balk, though. Tom might pay with his life. Hunter spread the pallet and motioned for her to lie next to him. Keeping her back to him, she stretched out on the fur, putting as much distance between them as the pallet allowed. She felt him wrapping a length of her hair around his wrist and intertwining it in his fingers. She prayed he wouldn't touch her--not in front of Tom. There was no God in heaven. A heartbeat later, Hunter's steely arm encircled her waist, and his large hand splayed beneath her breasts. The fur abraded her sunburned thigh as he slid her toward him, but that sting was nothing compared to the degradation. What would Tom think? Loretta knew well what he'd think, and she couldn't blame him. But what choice did she have?"