Quotes from Catherine Anderson

This small woman filled the empty places inside him, made him feel whole again.

In a voice that rasped with frustration as well as tender amusement, Hunter said, "You have such a great want for me that we must hurry, yes?

We must go west. Alone, Blue Eyes, leaving all that we are behind. All those we love, your people, my people." Loretta caught his face between her hands, shaking with the intensity of her emotions. "Hunter, you are my people. I'll follow you anywhere.

My heart is filled with great love for you," he whispered. Tears sprang to Loretta's eyes. She couldn't name the emotion that caused them, didn't want to. Then, like projectiles from a cannon, the words shot from her mouth. "Oh, Hunter, I love you, too.

My heart is filled with great love for you," he whispered.

A Comanche moon. Good light to kill by.

A baby ... Annie hugged her waist, so happy that it was difficult to contain herself. Someone of her very own to love. It was the nicest thing that had ever happened to her, barring none.

Blue Eyes, we have many nights to lie with one another. Forever, yes? Until we die and rot." "Until death do we part," she amended.

It is enough that you will lie beside me. That I can put my hand upon you." Her expression went from wary distrust to incredulity. "And do nothing?" Hunter shared her sentiments. It was the most boisa idea he had ever come up with.

Look into my eyes. Do you see a new morning with new beginnings?" He searched her gaze, and then, in a husky voice that reached way down inside her, he whispered, "Yes." He drew out the word until it seemed to echo and reecho in her mind.

In retrospect, he looked back on the events that had drawn them together and believed with all his heart that an invisible hand had moved him and her about like pieces on a chessboard, aligning their positions, manipulating incidents, bringing them inexorably to a collision point. Fate? The Almighty? Alex didn't know, nor did he care to guess. All that mattered was this moment and the feeling that it was wonderfully and perfectly right.

He wasn't sure when it had happened or how, but the small woman beside him was no longer his captive; he had become hers.

He stretched out an arm and watched the myriad emotions that crossed her face as she contemplated the spot beside him. She had slept beside him before, many times, but tonight was different. There was nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted. She had even bargained away her right to fight him. What she didn't seem to realize was that there had never been anything to stop him.

She realized now that there was no good or bad, no right or wrong, just people fighting for their lives. Wonderful people, who lived and loved and laughed.

Hunter, if you leave signs for other Comanche bands, why do white men have so much trouble finding you?" "They are not smart." Loretta laughed softly. "I think I've been insulted. You think I'm stupid?" He threw her a look that made her laugh again. "A little bit smart. Because I teach you." "Ah, so I'm ignorant, not stupid? I suppose I can accept that.

Hunter, if you leave signs for other Comanche bands, why do white men have so much trouble finding you?" "They are not smart.

In one liquid movement he rose on an elbow above her, his broad chest a canopy of bronze, his shoulders eclipsing the light so only her face was illuminated. "You have stolen my heart.

Hunter would never have told her to come to him if he hadn't believed she could find him. Between her and Friend, they would make it. Loretta mounted up, no longer feeling so horribly alone. As crazy as it was, she felt as if Hunter rode beside her.

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.

Who was the bravest: the one who sacrificed his life, or the one who stayed behind to do the mourning? And taking it a step further, who was the strongest?

Make a story for me, yes? About my Loh-rhett-ah when she was small like Blackbird." She stared at him, clearly unable to believe he meant it. He forced a yawn, and from the look that crossed her small face, he knew he hadn't been very convincing. "You're not sleepy," she accused. " Ka , no," he admitted.

You have stolen my heart.

Do you bleed from within?" Her face flamed, and she bit her lip. Hunter would have traded every horse he owned at that moment to have a woman there.

You will be warm with me in my lodge? I have many buffalo robes. And plenty food. Meat, yes? And my strong arm will protect you, forever into the horizon. There is nothing to fear." He pressed his hand more firmly against her midriff. "My tongue does not make lies. It is the truth I speak, not penende taquoip , the honey talk, but a promise. I have spoken the words, and they are carried away on the wind to whisper to me always.