Capturing Cora by Madelynne Ellis Page B

wouldn’t actually marry me.” Much as it hurt her to admit that fact. “I’m simply not to his tastes.”
    “Is that so? I’ve always observed my brother to be particularly fond of you.”
    Fond—perhaps! If only that were enough. “If I’m to spend my life with him, I shall want more than fondness.” She desired passion and love. She craved his actual touch. “I shall want to be central to his needs.”
    Harriet tugged at her skirts. “Cora, you oughtn’t to dwell upon such improper thoughts. Think of what your mama would say if she heard you.”
    Cora raked her teeth over her lower lip again. What was so wrong in her thinking of Bran, or any other man, in that way? Where was the evil in admitting her admiration? It seemed unlikely that the Lord God would strike her with a thunderbolt for admiring a fellow’s calves or the merry way in which his lips curled, or even for imagining him creeping towards her bed in the dark. After all, how else was procreation supposed to occur? She had grown up in the countryside and wasn’t naïve enough to believe in storks or bountiful gooseberry bushes.
    If she occupied her nights dreaming of how Bran might touch her in places she’d explored once or twice for herself, then whose business was it besides her own?
    More importantly, she absolutely insisted on feeling something deeper than passing interest in her future husband. She refused to be the sort of wife who was confined to the country estate so her husband could make merry with his mistress.
    Why should her husband have need of a mistress? Could he not make merry with her?
    “Cora!” Harriet barked, making everyone jump.
    “Whatever did I do?” Cora made her eyes wide in defence.
    “It’s what you were thinking that was the problem. I could tell the turn of your thoughts purely from your expression.”
    “Oh, and what pray were they?” Charlotte asked.
    “Nothing I would consider repeating.”
    Charlotte cocked an eyebrow in a way that reminded Cora sharply of Bran. “That simply makes it all the more intriguing.”
    “It was nothing. I was merely considering an addendum to our wager. That it has to be a genuine match for the winner to be declared. Hopefully then you won’t consider my motivations so suspicious.”
    Biddy pushed her way into their midst. “Whatever argument you have will have to wait. The gentlemen are here.” Almost as she spoke, the doors to the adjoining room were thrown open. Their host, Lord Egremont, led the column of gentleman guests, with Bran by his side.
    “I trust you are all well practiced, ladies?” Bran came straight over to their huddle. “Whatever are you all about? Do tell.” He took in all their expressions. “You all look deliciously guilty. What can you have been planning?” He cocked an eyebrow just as his sister had just done. “Do say, Cora. You know I can’t abide being kept in the dark.”
    Why did her heart have to flutter so much just from looking at him? Somehow, she managed to keep her agitation out of her voice. “You’re mistaken in thinking there is anything afoot. We have merely been practicing.”
    “They are embroiled in an audacious wager.” A smug grin turned up the corners of Biddy’s mouth.
    Treacherous imp! Cora stiffened. Bran didn’t need to know their business any more than any of the other gentlemen. Secrets were not something he was overly good at keeping. More importantly, while the wager was meant light-heartedly, the matter of finding themselves husbands was absolutely serious, and Bran would only make fun of them. She really didn’t think she could bear to have him laugh at her when it came out that the plan had been hers.
    “They—” Biddy began.
    “It’s nothing.”
    “If it were nothing, Cora dearest, you wouldn’t look so alarmed.” Bran ticked her lightly upon the forearm. “I don’t suppose this wager has anything to do with skittles, perhaps?”
    “More to do with you,” Biddy piped up, refusing to be