You sure are a purty thing,” he murmured, his voice husky…

““You sure are a purty thing,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I bet that buck of yours’ll be hot on our trail to git you back. That is if he ain’t dead.” The stench of the man’s body filmed the lining of Loretta’s nostrils. She hated the contemplative look on his face. If she admitted she was married to a Comanche, he would consider her fair game and use her himself. His men would follow suit with Amy. The thought made Loretta’s stomach roll. She was a woman grown, married to a wonderful man who had given her dozens of beautiful memories. No matter what these animals did to her, she’d survive. Amy might not. “I don’t have a buck who’ll come after me, so you needn’t worry,” she replied evenly. “Luckily, you and your men arrived in the nick of time.” He ran his gaze over her Indian clothing. “You’re lyin’, sweet thing. What’sa matter? You afraid I’ll get too friendly if I find out you’ve been pleasurin’ Comanches?” Struggling to stay calm, she said, “You’re a smart man. I heard you and your men talking. You were hired to rescue captives, not abuse them. Touch one of us, and it’ll be the mistake of your life. We haven’t been pleasuring anyone. And if we end up pleasuring you, I guarantee you’ll hang for it.””

— Catherine Anderson