Dr. Cally Medlin is having a bad day. She's so close to finding a remedy for Tauria's decades-long crop failure, but now the planet's central government has collapsed, people are rioting, her uncle has disappeared, everyone's after her research notes, and she and her five-year-old daughter have just been kidnapped by a half-Taurian soldier in dirty fatigues, who now insists she marry him. "We have to become attached," says Major Taschereau, using the Taurian word for marriage. "It's the only way to keep you both safe." "Why would we be any safer after I marry you?" Cally protests. "Because the Clan lords respect the concept of private property." "Oh, yes, of course," she says with all the contempt she can muster. "Wives and children are property here. How could I forget? But what about the Technicians? The Conglomerate? None of them will give a damn whether we're married. They'll grab me the first chance they get." Tasch half turned towards her. His pale Taurian eyes examined her every curve and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "One power-hungry group of megalomaniacs at a time, Doctor. My job is to get you and your daughter and your research through 1000 miles of clan territory first. This is the safest way. I have to claim you." Cally looked at the rough and ready man before her and thought of the millions of ways this plan of his could go terribly wrong - or terribly right.