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“Hiding the ponies if somebody appears on the road.”
Jamie turned Bess uphill.
The fold had stood empty long enough for moss to darken its walls. Two remained nearly shoulder-high, while the third had fallen low enough for the sheep to wander through. From the road it looked like any other forgotten farm.
Olivia brought Mally alongside him. “If you moved the ponies separately instead of in one line, they’d draw less attention. One animal loaded down could belong to anybody.”
“Six carrying casks wouldn’t.”
“Exactly. Bring them up separately, use the fold if you need to wait, then move them when the road clears.”
He rode around the outer wall before answering. From the south, Olivia’s idea was good. From the north, however, the higher track rose behind the fold and gave any rider coming over the ridge a clear view down into it.
He pointed. “There.”
She twisted to follow his hand.
“A rider coming from that direction would see straight inside.”
She studied the angle for several moments, then looked back toward the broken wall. “What if you stacked peat along the opening? Enough to block the view from above.”
Jamie pictured it. Peat stacked against the opening would look ordinary here, especially with winter coming. He turned the idea over and found himself liking it.
“Aye. That could work. We’ll have to check again when it rains to make sure it doesna flood.”
Olivia’s smile appeared immediately, her eyes sparkling.
“Dinna look so pleased.”
She smirked. “You just admitted I improved your smuggling route.”
“I admitted peat could hide the opening and it might work.”
“That still counts.”
She nudged Mally forward, or tried to, as the pony stayed exactly where she was.
He turned his face away before she caught him smiling
“Lean forward and let her find firm ground.”
Olivia obeyed at once. Mally shifted her weight, tested once with a hoof, then pulled herself free of the mud and climbed onto the grass.
Olivia bent over the shaggy neck and rubbed the pony between the ears. “Good girl.”
By midday, the wind had strengthened and Olivia was shifting in the saddle often enough to suggest that another lesson might make her throw something at his head so Jamie led them to a sheltered shelf of rock beside the burn.
Olivia allowed him to steady her while she dismounted, the scent of wool, horse and a fresh scent like sunshine that seemed part of her, filled his nose. Once he was sure her legs wouldn’t give out, he reluctantly let go of her waist.
After the ponies had been watered, he spread an old tattered wool blanket across the driest patch of ground and unpacked Morag’s provisions. There were oatcakes, sharp cheese, smoked venison, two apples, and a flask of whisky. Morag regarded food and spirits as a sensible treatment for nearly any complaint.
Olivia lowered herself beside him with a small sigh, arranging her skirts around her.
Jamie passed her an oatcake. “Still fine?”
“If you ask again, I may throw you in the burn.”
He smiled and cut an apple with his dirk. Nearby, Mally cropped grass, serenely pleased with herself.
