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She looked back at the line of hills they’d crossed. She missed her grandmother. She missed the life she knew, her work, and her own time with all its conveniences. Yet here he stood beside her, a man who repaired her purse when she wasn’t looking, accepted her competence without argument, and would probably spend tomorrow fixing a stranger’s shutter and telling everybody it had been no trouble.

“Yes,” she finally said. “My grandmother’s there. She’s the only family I have left.”

“Aye.” He shifted the bucket in his hand. “We’ll find a way to get ye home.”

Her throat tightened. He meant it. He’d make inquiries, talk to sailors, find the money, and do everything he could to send her across an ocean, never knowing that the journey he had in mind could never take her where she needed to go.

“Jamie...” She almost told him then. The truth rose so quickly that for an instant she imagined how it might sound aloud, delivered on a muddy hillside with two buckets of cold water between them. Then she pictured the look on his face when he learned that not only had there never been a Mr. Bennett, but that she was from the future, and the courage deserted her.

“Thank you,” she said instead.

He nodded, accepting the words without asking for more, and resumed walking. Olivia followed, painfully aware that he was trying to give her what she said she wanted while he’d become the reason the answer no longer came easily.

Chapter 16

Olivia

The first thing Olivia learned about moving whisky in the dark was that anyone who called smuggling romantic had never tried fastening a wet rope around a barrel while it poured down rain and a pony leaned against her.

“Mally,” she said through her teeth, “I know perfectly well you can stand on your own four feet.”

The mare shifted another few inches and planted a hoof on the edge of Olivia’s skirt. Olivia looked down at the wool caught beneath it, then across the yard where Jamie was checking a load with Ewan.

“Move,” she whispered to the horse.

Mally flicked one ear.

Jamie turned just in time to see Olivia tugging at the fabric. His grin appeared slowly, giving her several seconds to dread what he was going to say.

“Dinna pull, lass. She’ll think ye’re playing.”

“She thinks I’m a wall for her to lean on.”

He came over, rubbed the mare between the ears and asked her to step aside. Mally obeyed at once. “There ye are.”

“That’s cheating. You know her language.” Olivia brushed mud off the hem of her gown. “I fed her a carrot yesterday.”

“Aye, but she knows ye’ve another somewhere.”

He bent to pick up the rope she’d dropped and held it out rather than tying the knot for her. “Show me how you’re tying it.”

He’d showed her twice, but her fingers were stiff with the cold and he made her nervous when he focused all his attention on her. She took a breath, brought the rope around the cask, passed it beneath the other length and pulled it snug. Jamie tested it, looked at the wool padding beneath the hoops, then gave an approving nod.

“Well done.”

It was a small thing, yet she found herself smiling… over a knot in a rope.

Oh, Olivia, you are in deep trouble with him.

The yard behind the still house was crowded with men and ponies preparing for the night’s work. Nobody spoke unless necessary, and then it was in low voices that wouldn’t carry.

Casks lay in two rows near the shed, their iron hoops wrapped in cloth in case the rain stopped and the moon came out. Ewan inspected each pack frame and Alasdair complained that people who gave directions were rarely the ones who had to follow them. The smell of damp wool mingled with peat smoke, leather, horse sweat and the good sharp warmth of new whisky. Olivia could smell it beneath everything else, even when the men rubbed the cask rims with ash and lanolin to disguise the scent.

She’d spent years walking through spotless warehouses where a misplaced label could cause an uproar. Here, a bad knot might cause a cask to fall, which would mean a family going without money they needed before winter. Alasdair had made that clear when he’d heard she wanted to help. He checked the loads again, frowning hard enough to frighten any loose nails back into the timber.

Jamie had listened when she suggested separating the ponies. He hadn’t agreed at once, and she was coming to appreciate that about him. They’d decided to use two tracks and stagger the departures, sending the smaller loads along the higher route while Ewan took the lower path with the others. The men would meet beyond the alder trees, where a stand of stone and gorse concealed a hollow Jamie had used before.

It was no wonder everyone was thin with all the walking they did all day and night.