Too Wicked to Marry by Susan Sizemore

is," she answered, completely honest for once. "But I can hazard a very good guess. She has most likely gone to Scotland."
    "Scotland?"
    "The Isle of Skye, to be precise, to a family named MacLeod. They have many children," Phoebe added. "Abigail had her training there."
    "She was governess to the MacLeod children? I've never heard her mention them."
    "She took care of the younger children for years. She is very close to the MacLeods, as am I." Never tell the whole truth when half truths would do; that was Phoebe Gale's philosophy, mixed with a sly sense of humor. "I will be happy to write an introduction to Sir Ian MacLeod for you if you wish to go to Skye to look for her."
    He squeezed her hands and gave her a dazzling smile in gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Phoebe. How can I show my appreciation?"
    "I do have a favor I'd like to ask, my lord."
    "Anything."
    "It is a simple task, and one involving the MacLeods. Would you mind acting as a courier for some correspondence I was planning on posting to Sir Ian and Lady MacLeod? It will arrive sooner and safer if carried by hand."
    He lightly kissed the backs of her hands before letting them go. "A simple task, indeed," he said. "And one happily performed."
----
Chapter 6

     
    "I think, Mum, that I shall change my name."
    Hannah had been certain that she'd approached the ruins at the top of the sheep pasture without making a sound, but Harriet, seated with her back turned, was aware of her all the same. Hannah gave her daughter points for her observation skills, and calmly asked, "What name are you thinking of?"
    "Several come to mind. What do you think of Caprice?"
    Hannah joined her daughter on the ancient, broken wall. Harriet's gaze remained fixed on a distant line of hills while Hannah spoke. "You don't seem the capricious type to me, Harriet."
    "But it's such a pretty name."
    "And memorable. Anonymity is the watchword for undercover work, remember?"
    "I wasn't thinking about a new assignment, I was simply thinking about a change. I wish I was brave and strong and ruthless like you, Mum."
    She put a hand on Harriet's shoulder. "Bad dreams again?" Harriet tensed alarmingly under her touch, but shook her head. She knew that her daughter sometimes brooded over what had happened in Austria, but didn't like to talk about it. "I wouldn't want you to change. Not when I've just gotten my own dear Harriet back. What is it, my melancholy one? Don't like being Harriet MacLeod very much right now? Or is it that you don't remember quite how to be yourself at the moment?"
    Her daughter had been withdrawn, silent, and sad since returning home three
days before. Hannah wasn't sure if she needed to give her child more time to
work through whatever was so obviously bothering her, or if she needed to give a
loving but bracing lecture on coping with the vicissitudes life threw in one's
way. She did know she needed to find out exactly what had transpired to bring Harriet running back home in such a peculiar fashion.
    "You must have missed the view," she said when time passed without Harriet answering her last question. "You've been up here every day since you've come home. It is a lovely place, but the wind's cool today," she added as she tucked her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
    The foundation of the property's manor house was said to date all the way back to the days when Norsemen had colonized this island off the Scottish coast and named it Skye. The house, rebuilt and expanded many times over the centuries, sat tucked in a small, isolated wooded valley well out of sight of the Portree road. To reach Skye Court you had to first find the narrow track that led up the valley, then ford two streams that rushed down from the Storr along the way. In rainy weather those streams were sometimes dangerously swollen, and the weather was frequently rainy on Skye. One had to
want
to get to Skye Court.
    The ruins where they sat were probably those of a medieval defense tower. From up here there was