Free Ripe for Pleasure by Isobel Carr

disappeared back into the smoking mews.
    Viola ran into the street barefoot and in her bedclothes for the second time in as many weeks. A horse burst past her, dragging
     a groom with it. Its hooves hit the cobbles with a sound like a smithy.
    Viola pressed herself to the wall, aghast as the groom swung himself onto the back of the moving horse and held tightly as
     the animal broke into a gallop. A second horse flew after them, leaving only the impression of terrifying strength and the
     rolling flash of the whites of its eyes.
    As Viola rounded the corner, the sky opened with a thunderclap that made the ground shake. The deluge soaked through her dressing
     gown instantaneously. She shoved wet hair back, twisting it into a knot, impatiently searching the crowd for Vaughn. Gads,
     tall as he was, he should be easy enough to spot, but he wasn’t.
    They all paid a small fortune for the fire crew that was furiously battling the flames, water flying through a giant hand
     pump on wheels, aided now by the sheets of rain pounding down upon them all. Men swirled around her, calling out warnings,
     fighting to pull carriages from thebuilding, and struggling to control maddened horses. The spotted carriage dog that belonged to her neighbor wove through the
     crowd, its white coat dulled by ash so it was almost unrecognizable.
    A great cracking rent the air, and a shower of sparks erupted out the stable door, hitting the rain with an insidious hiss.
     Viola’s hand again crept to her mouth, holding back a cry that seemed to deafen her from the inside out.
    He wasn’t there. He simply wasn’t anywhere in the crowd. Another shower of sparks erupted as the stable fell in upon itself,
     the first story crashing down into the stalls.
    A man stumbled out and was caught up by the crowd, their hands slapping out flames as quickly as the rain. Her heart turned
     over, but it wasn’t Vaughn.
    Viola stepped back as a coach was dragged past her, paint bubbling up on the door, obscuring the crest. She spun about, lost
     in the crowd, and bumped into a horse. She shrank away as it lashed out. Teeth caught her sleeve, yanked her off balance,
     and sent her sliding across wet cobbles and down into a crumpled heap.
    Her cry as she hit the cobbles was drowned out by a deafening boom of thunder. Someone caught her from behind, lifting her
     up and away from the animal’s nervously mincing hooves. Viola wrang her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.
    “Hush bunting, you’ll frighten the horses.”
    Wet, bedraggled, and holding firmly to the halter of a trembling horse, Vaughn wrapped one arm about her and held her tight.
     His hair was half black with soot. Rain ran from it in great, gray runnels, streaming down his ruined shirt.
    Lord Leonidas. Leo. He kept up a soft, singsong patter, though she couldn’t for the life of her tell if it was for her or
     the horse. The horse dropped its head, exhaling loudly enough that she could feel it ripple through her.
    “That’s a pretty girl.” He dropped his death grip on the halter and ran his hand caressingly over the horse’s neck. “Let’s
     put her in with the others, shall we?”
    Viola nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She blinked water out of her eyes, letting Vaughn lead her toward the gate to
     her own yard, along with the mare.
    He pushed the horse in, the wet slap of his hand on her rump sending her tail flicking. She nickered, and the others rambled
     toward her, ears pricked with interest.
    Viola bit her lip and looked helplessly at the ruin of her garden. The neat beds had been trampled into a soggy morass. One
     bench had been tumbled over, the seat knocked from its base. The garden had been about the only thing that hadn’t been invaded
     and turned upside down during the invasion of her home.
    She sighed and then pressed her lips together disapprovingly as Leo chuckled softly in response. His arm snaked around her
     waist, and he propelled her up along what was left of the