Virginia said, slipping into bed beside her husband. Macrath gathered her up in his arms and addressed the ceiling. “We have a plethora of females in our household, so you could mean any one of them. Fiona? One of the maids? Brianag?” She slapped his chest. “You know I mean Ceana. She isn’t herself.” “At least she’s not hiding in her room.” She raised up and stared at him in the darkness, wishing she hadn’t extinguished the lamp. “She was fatigued.” “She was malingering,” he said. “Ceana often retreats when she doesn’t know how to handle a situation or she’s avoiding it.” “What situation is she avoiding?” she asked, dropping back onto the mattress. “I’m not sure. Maybe the decision to move home. Maybe Bruce.” “Bruce?” He chuckled and tightened his arm around her.
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