To Seduce an Angel by Kate Moore

squeal became a long wavering trill descending to a rusty hiccupping bray. In the stable a pony greeted a friend and wanted a treat.
    She forgot her step count. Still, she did not move. Once one cracked the lid on the jar of the past, bad memories inevitably escaped with the good, but a second pony answered the first, and Emma gave in to the pull of her childhood. She was no different from her students, easily swayed by the past.
    In the stable the head groom turned to greet her, an old black-and-white spaniel at his heels. “Miss?” He doffed his hat and bowed. “Ned Begley.”
    Emma nodded with a glance at the dog. She decided that Wallop did not need to know that Daventry’s groom had an old dog.
    â€œYou’re not afraid of old Hector, are you now, miss?” The groom gave the dog’s head a fond stroke.
    Emma shook her head. “Hello. I’m Miss Portland, the boys’ new tutor. Did I hear a pony?”
    â€œYou did, miss.” He beckoned her to a pair of stalls. “Here you go, meet Hiccup and Budge.”
    A pair of shaggy-maned dark brown faces peeped over stall gates at her. She held her hands out to be sniffed and waited for a sign that she could rub the brown faces and ears.
    â€œHave they been ridden lately?”
    â€œNo, miss. Nobody much rides in the big house. Thought the boys might want to learn.”
    â€œNot Daventry?”
    â€œDoesn’t ride, miss, though he do drive sweetly. The lad was made to hold the reins.”
    â€œMay I ride Budge?”
    Ned gave an embarrassed laugh. “Don’t know that we have a proper lady’s saddle, miss.”
    â€œA bridle will do.” Emma unlatched the stall gate and stepped inside to stroke Budge and talk to him about going for a ride. “Do you have a treat for him?”
    â€œThat I do, miss.” Ned handed Emma a handful of sweet, grassy-smelling hay, still green. She heard Hiccup demand a treat, too.
    The pony munched, and Emma closed her eyes and curled her hand in the shaggy mane, whispering in the pony’s ear a promise to come with a brush soon. Childhood afternoons rose up around her with Tatty and Leo and their groom Nicolo and ferny woods and little orange mushrooms and icy mountain streams in their last plunge before reaching the sea.
    When Ned brought the bridle, Emma stepped up to the pony and went to work. Budge quivered with anticipation. Minutes later Emma opened the stall and led him out and vaulted up onto his back in a move that came to her out of no conscious place. It was just there, like the next note in a familiar song. Her skirts bunched awkwardly, and she paused to tuck them under her while her knees hugged Budge’s round flanks, signaling her wishes.
    Once beyond the stable, Budge seemed to sense her need for a run, and off they went down the path that split the trees. Her cloak billowed out behind her, and her eyes watered from the cold rush of air. She felt alive.
    As they slowed to enter the wood, she could see the boys perched on limbs above her and hear them calling. They were throwing stones at crows but stopped to look down at her, curiosity getting the better of them.
    Lark whistled, and the boys began to move. “You can’t catch us.”
    Hah, Lark, try me . She laughed and nudged her pony’s sides. The boys might excel at climbing, but she guessed they would be no match for the swift little pony.
    They clambered from limb to limb, shouting and pelting Emma with leaves and twigs. Budge gave her a burst of speed whenever she called on him, so she had no trouble keeping up with their agile antics. Turning the tables on them, she led them deeper into the wood, and when they ran out of wood, Emma and Budge burst into a wide field and galloped on. It felt like freedom, like escape, like leaving behind lies and fears and guards and prisons. There was only a brown landscape under a low gray sky and a warm pony.
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