" You are Comanche now, yes?” he said hopefully. “One with us.” Indefinable emotions played across her face. “I’m married to a Comanche. I love him. But I’ll never a Comanche.” Hunter studied her features, once so repulsive to him, now so cherished. He ran a finger up the fragile bridge of her nose, then traced the line of her brow, acutely conscious of the small bones that shaped her face. Protectiveness welled within him. “You are one with me, one with my people. You cannot stand with one foot on Comanche land and the other on land. "