“That’s a pretty woman you got.” Nolan opened his truck door and paused. “She give up on being normal?”

“Getting there.”

King grinned, then swung into his truck.

After locking the front gate, Sam unsaddled the horses and turned them loose. Immediate tasks finished, he looked around. No redhead in sight. Had she gone up to the house? He whistled for Conn.

After a minute, the dog tore across the south pasture, ducked under the fence, and stopped in front of Sam.

“Good boy.” Sam tossed him a dog treat from his pocket. “Find Linda. Linda.” Conn usually needed longer to associate a name with a scent, but he’d strongly taken to the redhead. “Find Linda.”

A short bark indicated agreement. The dog did a quick circle of the corral, caught the trail, and headed off, bouncing in happiness at performing his favorite task.

Sam followed. Looked as if Linda had visited the chickens, checked the pasture, circled the construction, and headed down to the small pond. Partway there, Conn lifted his nose, caught her scent in the air, and gave his triumphant bay of I found her.

She was sitting on the bank of the pond, watching the ducks and an egret in the shallows. Her hair glinted red in the sun, and her cheeks were sunburned from their ride; he’d need to take care of that. When Conn charged up to her and knocked her backward with his enthusiastic greeting, she simply laughed.

The woman laughed in the same way she climaxed—nothing held back, open and delighted. A man could fall for that laugh. Hell.

She tilted her head back, and the dimple in her cheek appeared. “You found me.”

“Conn did.” Sam dropped down beside her, close enough to tell he liked the scent of his soap on her.

“When you said he kept track of people, I didn’t realize you meant he’d hunt for them.”

“Nicole taught him to play hide-and-seek. I took it from there. Working dogs need challenges, or they get into trouble.”

Linda scratched Conn’s neck in a way that would earn his lifelong devotion. “He’s pretty proud of himself.”

“Yep.” Sam ran his knuckles over her cheek, pink from the sun. “Been meaning to ask—you on the pill?”

“An implant.” Her mouth twisted. “A gift of the slavers, but I decided to leave it in place.”

Damn but he disliked raising ugly memories, but these were questions that needed to be asked. Should have done it before. “As a member of the Shadowlands, I get tested regularly.” And he knew that over the past few months, the ex-slaves had been checked often.

Her eyes narrowed. Then she caught where he was heading. Her lips tilted up. “You want to skip the condoms?”

“Hell, yes.”

Her laugh let him relax. Then she tilted her head. “As long as you’re not…with…anyone else, I’m okay with that.”

“Same goes, missy.” He traced her lips before giving her a level look. “I don’t share.”

He received the same look back. Damn, he liked this woman. “We’re on the same page, then.”

“Good enough. So there’s time before I need to start evening chores. You have anything you’d like to see or do?” He tugged on a lock of her hair. “I know what I’d prefer”—he smiled as her face flushed—“but you might need to walk tomorrow.” And, from the way she’d been shifting in the saddle, he knew how sore she was going to be.

“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice and her involuntary wiggle told him she’d be willing anyway.

He pulled her hair, dragging her until she was on her back in the soft grass. Enthusiasm should be rewarded.

Chapter Fifteen

The cold morning breeze off the Gulf whipped around Sam as he followed Linda into her beachfront store. After yesterday, she was walking a bit stiffly, but although he’d seen her wince off and on, she’d smiled each time. Probably enjoying the memory of how the soreness had occurred.

His first impression of her store was cheerful clutter, but on closer examination he could see she’d arranged the merchandise to lure a customer in. On one side, two middle-aged women browsed the landscape paintings. A young couple was checking out the stoneware.

Sam glanced around. Something seemed missing. Ah. “No shot glasses with palm trees or ‘Florida’ on the side?”

“’Fraid not. There are plenty of other stores selling the usual souvenirs.” She grinned. “My cousin collected stuff when she traveled, tiny spoons and shot glasses, and a few years later, she got tired of dusting and gave everything to Goodwill. Tourists should have vacation mementos that are useful as well as fun.”

He tucked his arm around her. “Fine job.” The place even smelled good, reminding him of pumpkin pie. They passed a shelf of candles, then a chest-high wrought-iron candelabrum. He stopped. Be nice to get something for Z and Jessica’s wedding.

The people by the stoneware were looking around for assistance. Sam gave Linda a quick, hard kiss. “Go help your customers. I’m going to buy a candelabra. See you tonight.”

“I…” She glanced at the couple. “Okay. But next time is my place.”

“Works for me.” As she went to answer questions, Sam hauled his present-to-be to the front. Heavy bastard. The nicely dressed clerk gave him a cheerful greeting. Appeared Linda selected her employees as carefully as she did her merchandise. As the clerk rang up the sale and arranged to package and send the gift, Sam listened to the chatter in the store.

Linda was giving the young couple a briefing on the various potters’ backgrounds.

On the left, the older women were gossiping.

Hearing Linda’s name, he straightened.

The plump one was whispering, “…she…a slave. I heard she…”

“Then she asked for it, didn’t she?” The brassy-haired one drew herself up, looking as self-righteous as a nun.

Sam’s jaw clenched. If Linda overheard crap like that, no wonder she got frazzled. And her children had shoveled more shit onto the pile.

“…got what she deserved.”

He felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. Ripping a person down in her own place? Judging without the facts? And worst of all, for a woman…

He accepted his receipt from the clerk, nodded at her, and then followed the two old biddies out of the store. Their mean-spirited whispers sounded like snakes slithering through the grass.

“Ladies.”

They turned, faces pleasant.

“Could be wrong about that. In my book, a lady doesn’t bad-mouth someone. Especially a woman who already suffered enough.”

They looked shocked. The brassy one drew herself up again. “How dare—”

“You really figure any woman asks to be abused?”

The plump one’s face reddened.

“Yeah. What I thought.” He barely bit back an offer to show them what a whipping felt like. But his face—Dom and sadist—must have spoken for him, since they tripped over each other backing away.

As he stalked to his truck, they scurried off in the other direction. Hell. He probably hadn’t done Linda any favors, but goddamn.

He shook his head and started his truck. Then turned it off. Linda’s children had bleated out the same crap, and the brats still hadn’t called to apologize. When she’d checked her phone this morning, he could see their betrayal was eating at her.

Long as he was on a roll, he might as well enjoy himself.

* * * *

Linda leaned back in the booth of the small sandwich shop and smiled at Andrea, Beth, and Jessica. Their lunch was almost over, and she’d finally learned what had brought the three women to Foggy Shores. They were determined to get Linda to attend Jessica’s bachelorette party. “I’m not really part of your group,” Linda said, fighting a losing battle.

Jessica wasn’t taking no for an answer. Then again, Master Z wouldn’t fall for a pushover.

Andrea wasn’t any weakling either. The bartender’s submissive had a slight Hispanic accent, was a couple of inches taller than Linda, and was darned determined.

Although soft-spoken and quiet, Beth was just as stubborn. Lean and fit with dark auburn hair and turquoise eyes, she ran a landscaping business and was probably used to getting her own way. Except maybe with her Dom, who apparently was Sam’s construction contractor.

“Being with Sam makes you part of the group. All the trainees and the Masters’ submissives are coming.” Andrea shoved her curly, butterscotch-colored hair behind her ears. “Not any Masters, of course, and not the Mistresses either.”

“Mistresses are female,” Linda noted. “Why not them?”

“The Shadowlands Masters and Mistresses stick together. They’d report back.” Andrea grinned. “I sure don’t want Cullen finding out what I do at a bachelorette party, right?”

Remembering the antics at parties she’d attended, Linda could only nod. “Probably not.”

“Mistress Anne’s Joey was tempted, but he didn’t want to be the only guy.” Beth’s lips curved. “Besides, any party with Gabi and Sally will be insane, and he didn’t want to get in trouble with Anne.”

Linda ran through the people she’d met at the Shadowlands. “I don’t think I know her.”