When Katherine Rawls witnesses a murder, no place on Earth is safe, so going offplanet is the only answer. When a group of Domestics is transported to a pioneering planet, Katy goes along, taking the evidence with her. Her new boss is sympathetic and protective, and his ranch, Three Moon Station, is fairly isolated. When she learns that the contract she and Sarkin Trant signed isn't an Employment Agreement as she thought, but is actually a Marriage License, she's certain she's traded her previous predicament for danger of another kind, for Sar has fallen in love with his newly-purchased bride and is determined to woo and win her, and determined to protect her at all costs--come Hell or High Water or laser-totin hitmen!.

EXCERPT

"Oh, God! I'm wet to the skin!" He began to unbutton his shirt.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking off m'shirt. I'm soaked and the temperature's dropping. You'd na want me to catch pneumonia, wouldya?"

"But--what about the oxen?"

He gave her a glance that commented on where she put her priorities.

"I mean--if you might catch cold from getting wet, what about them?"

"Oxen have hair that repels water. They're na going to suffer!" The shirt was open and off and thrust at her. "Hang that up, wi'ya?"

Wildly, she looked around, saw a hook on one of the staves of the wagon's roof and hung the shirt on it, turning back to look at Trant again, or rather, at his bare back.

My goodness, his skin's beautiful!--the braid burned copperagainst that gold, the damp
ends clinging to the small of his back....

The small of his back ? Oh, no--he's wriggling out of his jeans!

The strangled sound she made stopped his movement. With the jeans halfway off his hips, he paused to look back at her, frowning a question.

"Cold--you're cold...." She snatched up a blanket and thrust it at him, knowing she was babbling. "Blanket--here-- Cover up... I-I mean, wrap up!"

He took it with a slightly confused nod of thanks, draped it over his shoulders and proceeded to remove the jeans. His boots and gaiters were laying nearby.

He was shivering, huddled under the blanket, shaking so hard his shoulders were bouncing.

"Don't you have any extra clothes?"

He shook his head. "N-nay...I-I'll have t-to w-w-wait 'til those d-dry...."

Any fear his lack of clothing gave her disappeared. How can you be afraid of someone when he's naked, wrapped in a blanket, and shivering so violently he can hardly speak?