Winter's Warmth (Bramble Wood's Royal Tea Shop Book 3) Read online

  Winter’s Warmth

  Bramble Wood’s Royal Tea Shop

  Book III

  Ivy Ruthven

  Cover design: Ivy Ruthven

  Cover Art Copyright 2017

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Ivy Ruthven. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted and reproduced in any manner or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or whatsoever without written permission of the author.

  For information contact, Ivy Ruthven.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Author’s note

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Olivia and Ryan are now a couple. With the approaching cold months, their warming relationship brings happiness and excitement to their lives.

  However, a new storm begins to brew, threatening the new lovers apart. Ryan finally reveals the secrets of his family. Olivia is torn and must help him make a decision. Can they brave the onslaught of a royal intrigue?

  Discover the wonderful world of Bramble Wood’s Royal Tea Shop where romance, delectable pastries and hot tea are served up every day. This is a sweet and clean YA contemporary romance series that can be enjoyed by teens and adults alike!

  Bramble Wood's Royal Tea Shop

  New Home- Book I

  Fall’s Whisper- Book II

  Winter’s Warmth- Book III

  To lovers of fall and spiced drinks.

  Chapter 1

  I was grounded.

  After the wild Halloween weekend that consisted of wandering in an old cemetery, accidentally falling off a high wall and injuring Ryan as a consequence, my mother had grounded me until Thanksgiving weekend.

  “Just a few more days and you’ll be free,” said James, my brother, wiping his mouth after chugging down his orange juice.

  “How come you didn’t get grounded?” I asked with a pout, pushing around bits of soggy cereal in my bowl. “We were both in the Hawthorne grounds.”

  “I wasn’t the one who ventured into the cemetery. Nor was I the one who gave Mother a scare after you decided to run out of the house like a mad girl,” said James in a sage voice. Standing up, he ruffled my hair. I had to bat at his hand to protect my combed tresses from his assault.

  “James!” called out a familiar voice. Sarah, our mother, had appeared at the table in a loose maroon cardigan. “Aren’t you late for school?”

  “Fine,” he said, stepping away from me and picking us his backpack from the foot of his chair. “If you want me gone, woman, I’ll go.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Did you pack the snack box?” she asked.

  “Aye. Laters, Mother.”

  Sarah sat down on at the table with a steaming mug of coffee. “Are you off work this Thursday?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Everyone is excited about Thanksgiving,” I said, chewing through the last of my cereal. “It sounds awfully like a British Christmas dinner though.”

  Sarah chuckled. “I know the turkey and cranberry sauce are common things in both, but Thanksgiving is so much more. It’s the time when families come together to celebrate the end of the harvest. There’s so much history behind the day. Too bad you and your brother were always away at school.”

  Her voice got caught and I knew she was about to mention my late father. “Scott and I always had a secret celebration of our own. Even though the rest of his family hated me for being a brash American, your father made sure I knew how much he loved me during these times.”

  “Mother,” I groaned, standing up and hurrying towards her for a hug. She’d broken down in tears at the memory of my father. “We’ll do whatever you want this year. We’re in America now and you can go as crazy as you want. I’m sure James will love it too, though I must warn you that it’ll be the food he’ll really love.”

  Sarah smiled as the last drops of tears leaked out of her soft brown eyes.

  It was really surprising how this mellow tempered woman had the ferocity in her to keep her teenage daughter grounded. James and I had spent most of our childhoods at boarding school. Punishments came from the heads of our dormitories or teachers.

  Growing up, our mother was a figure of love and affection rather than of discipline. However, now that we were home, she took up the charge of disciplining and restraining us with a never-before-seen gallantry.

  “I’m off to school now, Mother,” I said, giving her a small peck on the cheek.

  Shouldering my bag, I headed out of the front door of the house. Temperatures had steadily dropped over the last few weeks. My breath rose in vapors in front of me. I dug hands into the warmth of the coat’s pockets. Walking at a brisk pace, I hurried towards school.

  Each day, Ryan and I used the little pockets of time before school or in between classes to talk and steal a few moments to be together. All I wanted to do was talk about the kiss we shared in his barn few weeks back, but we were always rushing about or had people around us. Since the accident, he wasn’t able to drive to the teashop either. A driver drove him to and fro to school, and at times to the teashop, but we never got enough time to actually talk things out.

  As I neared the school gates, my gaze automatically searched the crowd for his presence. It only took a minute to locate him under one of the trees that lined the avenue. The weak rays of the morning sun illuminated his tall figure. He wore a long navy blue coat with large silver buttons. A woolen hat sat at a crooked angle over his dark hair. However, it was his brilliant blue eyes that held my attention. They reminded me of the waters of Loch Lomond on a summer’s day.

  “Hello,” he said with a small smile when I approached him. “You’re late.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, looking up at him. “My mother needed me.”

  Grabbing my hand, he gently pulled me against himself. “What about me, Olivia? I need you too.”

  Heat crept up to my neck as I furtively looked around to make sure no one was looking at us. Relaxing a little, I leaned into him. “I want us to spend hours away from the school,” I said in a low voice. “Not long until this ridiculous grounding is over. Then we are spending an entire day together!”

  His chest shook from his laughter. “Three more days to go.”

  The screech of the school bell cut through the chattering crowd. Everyone hurried towards the gates at once, pushing to get through. Ryan and I hung back, letting the more notorious kids go before us. We sped up our pace as we reached the staircase of the Washington Building where most of our classes were held.

  “Mr. Goon will not be happy,” I muttered, panting as we ran up the stairs.

  “He never is,” said Ryan, pulling me along.

  To our luck, we weren’t the only ones late to class. He frowned at us as we dispersed to take our seats. I waved at Stacie who was sitting in the second and made my way to the back of the room where I sat with Ryan for English class.

  The rest of the day crawled by. Not all o
f my classes coincided with Ryan’s and apart from English class, I always sat with Stacie. After school, I went over to Bramble’s tea shop to start my shift.

  With Halloween over, Miss Woods, our manager, and owner of the teashop, had allowed us to shun our witch costumes and resume our usual uniforms of a simple and plain white dress with a blue apron. Without the wild and extravagant decorations, the teashop now looked rather orderly and calm. Still, I loved the spicy fragrance of tea that pervaded throughout the space. That aspect remained unchanged along with the delicious aromas of freshly baked pastries.

  Throughout my shift, I kept my attention on a particular seat by the windows. It was Ryan’s favorite spot. However, to my disappointment, he hadn’t come in. Apart from wanting my grounding to be over, I prayed for the fast recovery of his fractured hand.

  “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?” asked Jeanne, one of my fellow waitresses. We were wiping the tables after all the customers had left.

  “My mother might do something special,” I said. “It’ll be the first time for me and my brother celebrating it.”

  “Right,” said Jeanne, pausing. “You guys didn’t have it in Scotland?”

  “No. We did have St. Andrew’s Day around this time of the year, but it was different from Thanksgiving. It was mostly time to visit the German Christmas market near Haymarket,” I said, remembering the old streets of Edinburgh.

  “We have Christmas markets here too,” said Jeanne, wiping hard at a particular spot on the table. “It’s a bit far from here by the riverside, but you’d love it. There’s ice skating too!”

  “Sounds great! When does it start?”

  “It’s started already, I think.”

  I made a mental note in my head. Skating in the winter was my favorite pastime and it would be the perfect place to go with Ryan.

  “Are you ready for the Christmas costumes?” asked Jeanne, grinning a mischievous smile.

  “What? Aren’t we done with costumes?”

  “Nope! This is just the calm before the storm,” said Jeanne, waving a hand at the darkened hall. “Just wait till the end of the weekend. It will be transformed into a winter land.”

  While a part of me felt excited about the new décor, I also could not stop feeling apprehensive. The witch costumes during Halloween had been fun, but the stares from the customers had been embarrassing. Hoping Bramble would not dress up as gnomes and elves, I went to the locker room to change out of my waitress uniform.

  I headed home after saying a goodbye to all my colleagues at the tea shop. The night air was cold but the sky clear. Stars glittered overhead like diamonds. Walking the quiet streets by myself, I couldn’t help but miss Ryan. It would have been so romantic if he was with me. The distance from the café to my home was long, but it passed easily with my imagination cooking up dreamy scenarios with Ryan.

  When I rang the doorbell, it was James who came to open the door.

  “Mother wants to talk to us both. Hurry up!” he said without preamble and turned away.

  Closing the door behind me, I raced upstairs to my bedroom to deposit my school bag and coat. After a light wash-up, I headed downstairs for dinner and to hear what Sarah wanted to tell us.

  “Done with dinner?” I asked James who was tapping away on his phone.

  “Yep! Mother made chicken and potatoes,” he replied, still staring at his phone.

  “Had a good day, Olivia?” asked Sarah, bringing me a plate of food and sitting down at the table.

  “Yeah. James said you wanted to talk to us about something?” I asked, spearing a piece of roast potato with my fork.

  “We are having Thanksgiving this year,” gushed Sarah, her eyes alight with excitement.

  “But a friend invited me to lunch,” said James in his drawl.

  “You will decline,” said Sarah in a firm tone. “You can invite friends to dinner at our home, but you two are not allowed to go anywhere!”

  “Mother, please!” groaned James, throwing away his phone.

  “This is our first Thanksgiving in this house. I intend to make it special. It is so lovely to be with family on that day. You’ll never understand unless you see it for yourselves.”

  “I’m excited, Mother,” I said, swallowing a mouthful of salad. It made James scowl.

  “Yes!” cried Sarah, clapping her hands together. “I found your gran’s Thanksgiving recipe book, but the measurements are all for large platters and dishes. I think most of the big utensils are in the loft over James’s room.”

  “We can help you with those,” I said. “Mother, do we have any Christmas decorations in the house?” I asked, remembering Jeanne’s talk about decorating the café soon.

  “I’m not really sure, dear,” she said, looking pensive. “We’ll have a look up there tomorrow night.”

  “What are you planning to cook for the occasion?” I asked, hoping the food list would cheer James up.

  “Oh- the usual, you know? Turkey with stuffing, cranberry sauce, cornbread, stuffed squashes and pumpkin pie. And in the morning, I will bake you this sweet potato pie that is just heavenly. It has baked marshmallows on top.”

  “I haven’t tried that one before,” said James, suddenly looking up at our mother.

  “You’ve never had food like we’ll have this Thursday, kiddo,” said Sarah with a glint in her eye.

  James looked more excited than before. “I’ll go and cancel things with Damien, then,” he said, standing up with his phone.

  “You do that,” said Sarah with a nod. “Oh wait! One more thing! I need you to write down things you are grateful for. As many as you can and give it to me tomorrow morning.”

  “Fine,” he growled, turning away to escape to his room.

  “Why do you want us to do that?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” she said with a wink and a wide grin.

  Thanksgiving was definitely ON in the Buchannan household that year!

  Chapter 2

  I woke up before my alarm rang the next morning. The room was still dark as I debated whether to get up or stay inside the warmth of my sheets. My mother’s instruction from last night floated into my waking mind. She wanted both James and me to write out a list of things were grateful about.

  Throwing away my blankets, I forced myself to sit. A groan escaped as the chilly air of my bedroom brushed against my arms and legs. Grabbing my robe, I pulled on some socks and went over to my desk. Books and loose sheets of paper littered most of the table top. I removed some of them to make a space and then switched on the lamp.

  For a long time, I sat wondering what could be there to be grateful about. My father died that year. My uncle, whom I loved so much, grabbed every bit of property from my mother as an act of revenge. Both James and I had to leave Strathmoore Academy, the school where we’d practically grown up. We’d lost our friends. We didn’t dare be active on social media, fearing ridicule and scorn from the rest of our peers. Tears streamed down my cheeks as every unfair thing that happened to my family came rushing at me.

  Soon, my sadness turned to anger. Balling the sheet of paper in front of me, I threw it in the bin. In my frustration, I knocked a book out of the way as well. It fell with a heavy thud on the floor. Then a sudden knock on my door nearly made me jump out of my chair.

  “Who is it?” I asked in a low voice.

  “Me,” came James’s voice from the other side. “Did you fall off the bed or something?”

  “Of course, not!” I said, crossing the room to open the door. “I was trying to write about things I am grateful for. There’s nothing worth that in my life!”

  He slipped through the gap in the door and entered my room. My fourteen year old brother was already tall enough to tower over me. We had the same blond hair and clear green eyes. He picked up the book from the floor and placed it on my table.

  “I already made up my list,” he said, sitting at the edge of my bed. “There was so much that I had to cut things short.”

  “Wha
t?” I asked, nonplussed and intrigued. “Show me!”

  “It’s on my table,” he said, putting up his feet on the bed. “Go and get it.”

  “Fine!” I huffed and stomped to his room.

  His room was dimly lit by his bedside lamp. Locating his desk in the corner, I took the sheet of paper on it. The whole surface was filled with his scrawls. I took it with me to my room to take a closer look.

  “What’d you think?” he asked as soon as I entered.

  “Give me a minute,” I said, closing the door behind me. Taking a seat at my desk, I read.

  I am grateful for the new coat and snow boots that Mother bought. Grateful for Olivia not taking up all the money so Mother could buy them.

  I looked up at James. His chin was resting on his hands while he watched me.

  I am grateful for Derek, Mike, Nathan, Aaron, Duke, Sameer, Jack, Alejandro, Thanos, Jasmine, Taylor, Lindsey….

  The list of names went on and on. “Who are all these people?” I asked him, showing the place where he’d jotted them.

  “They are all my friends from class and the soccer team.”

  “Right,” I mumbled, reading on.

  I am grateful to Mother for cooking for me every day!

  I am grateful to Ryan for bringing Oli home when she got sick at work.

  I am grateful to Bramble Woods for being such a lovely boss to Oli.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I read through the rest of his paper which went on to list all the good things he’d eaten that week. He was such a thoughtful guy. Within that grim and quiet exterior, he felt strongly about every little thing people did for him. In comparison, I was still such a brat.

  “Stop crying, Oli,” he said in a soft voice. “It’s not hard to make a list like this. Just write about the things and people that make you happy.” Somehow that made me want to cry harder. “Come here, silly old girl,” he said, getting up from the bed and reaching me for a big hug. “You think too hard. That’s your problem,” he whispered into my hair.

  “Yeah,” I said, releasing him and wiping my eyes. “I’ll give it one more try.”