To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

“What sort of adventure has to take place in the dead of night?” she asked, still skeptical.

“The secret kind.”

She opened the door more fully. His breath caught. Her wild waves were let down and tumbling over her shoulder where they fell to the waist of her night gown. The warm glow of the candle danced in her eyes and fluttered against her soft skin. He’d never seen her that way before. Now that he knew her name, she felt more real to him, softer and more beautiful. She was everything beautiful and nighttime and hope and…

“Carver Timothy Ashburn, tell me right now if you have any ill intentions toward me during the course of this adventure.” She was waking up enough for her voice to carry its usual authoritative edge.

He grinned and crossed a hand over his heart. “I swear to be the pattern card of a gentleman.” Though, he didn’t swear that it would be easy. He had the strongest desire to run

his hands through her hair. He clasped his hands behind him.

“Gentlemen in my experience usually have the worst of intentions,” she said.

“Fair enough. A saint then.”

She eyed him for a minute, weighing the odds in her mind. And then, without preamble, she shut the door. He blinked at the solid wood door, now nearly touching his nose. Was that it? She didn’t trust him? He was about to turn and walk away, dragging his bruised ego in tow, when the door reopened and she appeared wrapped in a thick blanket, a mischievous grin on her face. “I’m watching you, Kensworth,” she said, eyes narrowed as she walked passed him, sweeping her warm sweet smell under his nose and straight through his good intentions. But he mentally shook himself and re-focused.

He took up her hand and allowed himself to relish how good and right it felt in his. He guided her up the stairs to the third floor of the house.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh. You’ll see,” he said.

They made it to the top floor, and he steered her toward the last window in a long row. Aside from the lantern he'd brought along, everything was shrouded in darkness. They stopped just beside the window. Carver reluctantly dropped her hand to undo its latch.

“What the devil are you doing?” she asked, a small panic rising in her voice. If she wasn’t thrilled about him opening the window, she definitely wouldn't be happy when he asked her to climb out of it.

He turned to face her. The night air was cold as it pushed through the open window. She pulled her blanket tighter around her. “Do you trust me?” He thought of her past and he knew about the scar that marred her hand from having nearly fallen off of a high roof top. He was asking a lot of her, to trust him in this way, and he knew it.

Carver extended his hand. Rose’s brow’s pulled together as she eyed his hand and then the roof line just outside the window. Her gaze met his, patent fear in their depths. “The last time I was on a roof, it didn’t go so well.”

“I know. But I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand. It was a little sweaty and shaking but he didn’t care. She was trusting him, and his hopes soared at the thought. He smiled and leaned down to pick up the blankets he had placed in the corner earlier that night, then climbed out the window. Rose followed closely behind and he was careful to never let go of her hand. “We don’t have far to go,” he said looking back at her, the darkness urging him to keep his voice lowered.

The cold winter air made him feel alive and energized. It somehow felt more pure and tangible than it did in the summer time. When you breathed in the chill, it had a presence in your lungs. Did Rose feel the same way? Judging by the way her teeth were chattering, probably not.

They walked a little further on the steep roof taking careful and determined steps. Carver squeezed her hand now and then to let her know he was paying attention to her and would not let her go. Rose did not say a word. Finally, they arrived at a small portion of roof that was nearly flat with only the slightest incline, tucked almost like an alcove into the steep roof. Carver had no idea why this part of the roof existed. Nor did he care. It had been his own personal hiding place since he was a boy and that was all that mattered to him.

He took one of the quilts draped over his arm and spread it out over the roof. When he was a child, he had never been so prepared as to bring a quilt with him. But he had a woman with him this time, and he thought she would appreciate a few small comforts while being forced to endure the cold January night on top of a roof. Really, it had seemed much more romantic in his head.

After arranging the blanket, he turned back toward Rose. He was shocked to find a smile on her face. Her hair flew all around, and her whole body trembled, but she was smiling. “What are we doing out here, Carver? Other than catching our death.”

He took her hand and brought her into the little hideout. “You’ll be warmer in here. The wind is blocked by the roof peaks.”

She stepped inside and sat down beside him, wrapping her blanket so snuggly around her that he wondered if it would become a permanent fixture on her. “Do you know where else the wind doesn’t reach?” Her tone and grin were cheeky. “My bed.”

He tipped a brow. “Yes, but I could hardly join you there, now, could I?”

She sat up a little straighter. “No. You most definitely could not.” He was sad that it was too dark to see her blush, as he was certain she was. Rose adjusted and faced out for the first time. “And I also don’t have a view like this from my bed either.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” This was what he had wanted her to see. Sitting up here felt like sitting on the clouds. The twinkling stars reflected off of the lake in front of the house, making it look as though hundreds of stars had fallen across the grounds. One could see for miles and miles from that spot.

In the distance, smoke billowed from tenants’ chimneys, tree lines swayed with the wind, and the world looked peaceful. He had missed being here. It was his own secret. A place to hide away that not even Claire had known about. He doubted that Rose knew how significant it was that he had brought her here.

He kept his eyes on the horizon. “I’m sorry that I found out your name. I know that you were not ready for that revelation and I’m sorry for putting you in the position to confirm it.” He felt her stiffen beside him. “I cannot unlearn your name. But I can level the playing field a little bit.”

She looked at him. “How?”