Hunter spread his hand under the cloth of the woman's gown and stared at the clear outline of his fingers. As incredible as it seemed, the sun had gone right through the thin material and cooked her fair skin. Comanches sometimes got sunburned, but never like this. With a snort of disgust, he wadded the gown into a ball and tossed the useless thing on the fire. From now on he would dress the girl in leathers. The material ignited explosively, and the light from the heightened flames played upon her body, flickering on her small breasts, shadowing her curves. He stared down at her, more angry than he had ever been, with himself. No matter how he tried not to think of it, his mind circled back to his behavior tonight, immediately after stopping to make camp, then later down at the river. How could he have treated a White-Eyes so kindly?