All the Wrong Reasons

Dislike to Hate

Chapter 7

Colin tried to keep the fiercest glare possible on his face. Why this would work, he had not the slightest idea. Somehow he had let Peirce talk him into this whole charade. Now, he was stomping towards his wife with a scowl on his face. One that was surely misplaced, for he had no reason to be angry.

The fact that she had gotten caught up in something else didn't bother Colin. He found it somewhat endearing that she paid so much attention to those around her and once that attention was directed towards something, all other thoughts left her mind.

He already knew of this quality because of her nature of to be honest. Cassandra was one of the few women he knew that actually listened to those beneath her. He knew that she didn't see them as anything less than equals, but they were. Their title held nothing while hers could start wars.

Colin almost let the glare slip as he watched her straighten her spine and send him a stubborn look. How could he not want to smile at the adorable picture she made as she stood protectively in front of the boy? He approached them and this time the glare was real.

He had to keep his mouth firmly closed as he realized Peirce was absentmindedly rubbing circles into Cassandra's shoulders. He almost let jealousy rear its ugly head, but he realized that the action was just part of the show. Peirce knew what he was doing even if Colin understood none of it. So, he went along with the plan Peirce had hacked up.

Standing in front of his wife, he pretended to huff and puff angrily. By the look on her face, he was doing a poor job. Her eyes crinkled at the corner and she pulled her lips into her mouth to keep the smile away. His lips tilted upwards in reflex, but as soon as he saw Peirce's glare, he masked his expression once more.

"What do you think you are doing?" His voice sounded annoyed even to his own ears. Ah, but his words got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed and her lips popped out of her mouth only to become a thin line.

"I am talking to a very dear friend. May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

Colin wondered how she could speak so calmly while anger flashed through her eyes.

"I was trying to show my wife something, but it seems her attentions are easily wavered." He said the words with false disdain thrown at his best friend. He hoped that she didn't pick up on the falsehood, and by the red tingeing her cheeks, he knew she hadn't.

"I was merely speaking to him about Cooper," she said with a tilt of her chin. There was no way Colin would ever make his wife submit, and he knew that.

Her answer confused him though, and he couldn't keep the façade up as his curiosity took over. "Cooper?"

She sighed and looked at him as if he were daft. "Yes, Cooper."

He raised an eyebrow in silent question. She was speaking of a Cooper, but who was this Cooper? She gave him the look once more before motioning to her skirts. He stared at them expecting something to happen. When nothing did, he glanced back up at her face.

"You named your dress Cooper?" he asked and Peirce snickered.

"Daft man. No, I did not name my dress. The lad is named Cooper," she replied with frustration coating every word.

"I see nothing but your skirts," he told her while he wondered if his new wife was indeed daft.

She finally looked down and realized that she too only saw her skirts. Shifting on her feet, understanding flashed on her face. Her hands made their way to the garment, and she began lifting. At first Colin wanted to make a sound of protest, but as soon as he saw the creamy white flesh, all thoughts left his mind.