The Christmas Token Read online

  She’d always thought the room dark and masculine with its wood paneling halfway up the wall, dark walnut furniture, and dark-colored linens.

  A cream quilt with brown leaves stitched across the top in an interesting pattern now covered the bed, adding light and warmth to the dark space. Both windows lacked any coverings, allowing the sunshine to dapple across the bed and part of the floor.

  Observing Blake, she realized he must not have heard her come in as she stood watching him pry a board away from the wall. His shirt stretched across his shoulders and arms, outlining the strength clearly evident there, while his well-fitting work pants highlighted the muscles in his thighs as he worked a piece of wood loose.

  When he bent over to pick up the board, a little gasp escaped her lips at the sight before her. Blake’s gaze collided with hers when he looked over his shoulder to catch her studying him.

  Almost dropping the pry bar on his foot at the vision she created, Blake took a moment to absorb her beauty.

  While he preferred seeing her hair down and wild, he admitted the blond curls piled on her head were both feminine and becoming, especially when a few had already worked their way free, flowing softly around her face.

  The peach and cream confection she wore accented her womanly figure while infusing her cheeks with a touch of color. He assumed the tight-waisted gown was probably the latest fashion.

  Watching as her hands nervously twisted around each other, she stood soundlessly staring at him. It would be an easy thing to become lost in those vibrant blue eyes.

  Feeling a tug in his heart pulling him toward her, he fought to resist it.

  “Filly thought you could use a break,” Ginny finally spoke, breaking the silence that fell between the two of them, dropping the gaze Blake had held captive.

  “That’s kind of her,” Blake said, wiping his hands along the sides of his pants and accepting the cup of coffee Ginny held out to him. Drinking the rich brew, Blake helped himself to a cookie, still warm from the oven. “It’s always a pleasure to do work for your brother and his wife.”

  “Why is that?” Ginny asked, distracted by the movement of Blake’s sculpted lips. They were such perfect lips, especially on such a handsome man.

  “Because no one else makes coffee as good as Filly and they rarely give me freshly baked cookies for a snack,” Blake said, grinning as he took another cookie. Noticing a second cup on the tray, he motioned for Ginny to pour herself some coffee.

  Jittery enough without the coffee, Ginny poured half a cup just for something to do with her hands. The way her palms moistened and thoughts addled in Blake’s presence, she thought it a small miracle she didn’t drop her cup on the floor.

  “What are you working on today?” Blake asked, leaning against the dresser as he contentedly munched his third cookie.

  “I helped Filly make the cookies,” Ginny blurted out, searching for something meaningful she had planned to do before the day was through, unable to come up with a single thing.

  Blake raised an eyebrow her direction. “You helped make the cookies?”

  “I watched while Filly mixed the dough then I cut them out. Doesn’t that count for something?” Ginny asked, flustered. Blake knew she couldn’t boil water without scorching the pan.

  “They are the most perfectly round cookies I’ve eaten for a long, long time,” Blake said, winking at her, making a blush fill her hot cheeks. She wondered if he referred to the cookies she’d helped his mother make so many years ago.

  Looking for any distraction, Ginny set her cup back on the tray then walked over to the wall where Blake was working. It appeared several of the boards, both in the paneling and floor, had warped from the exposure to the rain.

  “Will this be hard to repair?” Ginny asked, running her hand over one of the boards Blake already removed. Wincing, she felt a splinter slide into her palm.

  Before she could pull it out, Blake stood beside her, taking her hand in his.

  “Hurt?” he asked, carefully picking at it with his long, tapered fingers.

  “A little,” Ginny admitted, thinking she might faint from the feel of Blake’s hand holding hers, his heat permeating her side, his breath blowing across her skin as he bent over the splinter. Taking his knife from his pocket, he quickly removed the splinter then pressed moist lips to the spot, making Ginny’s stomach flutter. The sensation created by his lips against her skin was enough to make her lightheaded.

  “Better?” he asked, releasing her hand and stepping back across the room, gulping his coffee and setting the cup on the tray.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said, picking up the tray and starting to leave the room. Blake’s hand stopped her escape.

  “I appreciate the coffee and cookies, Ginny. Thank you for bringing them up to me,” Blake said, forcing himself to let go of her arm, to step away from the woman who twisted his heart in knots and his thoughts into a jumbled mess. What was he thinking, kissing her palm? His lips still tingled from the contact.

  He really wanted to haul her into his arms and kiss her until the only thing she could do was cling to him, whispering his name. Since that wasn’t going to happen, he took another step back.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, then practically ran down the stairs to the kitchen, startling Filly as she slammed the tray on the counter.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Filly asked, taking in the bright flush on Ginny’s cheeks and the narrowed glare the girl leveled on her.

  “Don’t be coy, Filly. You sent me up there on purpose. I’m sure Luke informed you Blake used to be my beau. From now on, if you want him to have a break with refreshments, you’ll have to deliver it to him,” Ginny said, crossing her arms angrily. “I don’t know what you and that thick-headed brother of mine think you are doing, but I beg of you to stop. I have no plans to ever become the property of a man, any man, and especially not that man, so please just stop.”

  “I’m sorry, Ginny,” Filly said, walking over to hug the much shorter and smaller girl. “You and Blake both seemed so happy to see each other, Luke just thought that maybe…”

  “There are no maybes where Blake Stratton is concerned. Please, Filly, I can’t…” Ginny stopped as tears clogged her throat. “Please just leave it alone. Some things once done can’t be undone.”

  Filly nodded her head without saying anything further.

  Ginny took a deep breath and looked around the kitchen, inhaling the scent of the beefy stew as well as bread baking.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to run a letter to Mother over to the post office. I could walk home with Luke on my way back,” Ginny said, desperate to escape the confines of the house and the proximity of Blake. Her hand still tingled from his touch and she desperately wanted to feel his lips on her skin again.

  “That would be fine, Ginny,” Filly said, smiling at her encouragingly. “Would you mind stopping by the mercantile and picking up some sugar on your way back? I’m out and with your brother’s sweet tooth that will never do.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Ginny said, disappearing to her room and returning with a fashionable hat and jacket in place. Tugging on a pair of gloves, she kissed Filly’s cheek, picked up the market basket, and breezed out the door.

  Bart was nowhere to be seen, so Ginny hurried down the walk, sighing in relief at not encountering the furry beast. Luke said the dog was used to being able to play with him and Filly and didn’t want to leave her out of the fun. He assured Ginny once she and Bart became accustomed to each other, she’d enjoy the canine.

  She didn’t know if that would ever happen, but she did appreciate his efforts of pushing her into Blake’s arms Sunday. Then again, being close to Blake was dangerous to her mental wellbeing and she’d do well to take a wide berth around him from now on.

  In no hurry as she ran errands, Ginny wandered through town, looking in windows and admiring the display in Abby Dodd’s dress shop window. Seeing her outside, Abby waved for her to come in.

  Stickin
g her head in the door, she thanked Abby and told her she’d come back on a day when she had more time, in no mood to think about clothes or fashions with visions of Blake bent over working on the wood paneling filling her head.

  Hastening her step toward the bank, she walked in the door in time to see Luke shrugging into his coat.

  “May I help you, miss?” a nice looking young man asked as she stood near the door, waiting for her brother to turn around.

  “No, thank you. I’m here to collect Mr. Granger for lunch,” Ginny said, giving her brother a saucy smile as he turned and grinned.

  “Ginny, you’ve not yet met my assistant, Arlan Guthry. He keeps me in line and the accounts straight. I couldn’t run the business without him. Arlan, this is my sister, Genevieve Granger, although we all call her Ginny,” Luke said, praising the mannerly gentleman who took his sister’s hand in his. Luke could see his assistant was about to fall under her spell.

  “My pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” Arlan said sincerely, stunned by the petite beauty standing before him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Guthry. The pleasure is mine,” Ginny said, smiling flirtatiously at the younger man. “I’m sure we’ll meet again since I’ll be staying in town for a while.”

  “I look forward to it,” Arlan said, watching her leave on Luke’s arm.

  “Can you tone down your charm a bit, Ginny Lou?” Luke admonished as they walked toward Granger House. “Arlan isn’t one of your empty-headed, deep-pocketed ninnies. He’s a good man and a friend, and I won’t have you trifling with him.”

  Setting her feet and refusing to take another step with her overbearing brother, Ginny crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at her older sibling. “I don’t trifle with anyone, Luke Granger, and well you know it. I am, after all, well past the age of being declared an old maid and have moved right into spinsterhood. If I was a trifling sort of woman, I’d have a string of broken-hearted chaps in my wake and a ring on my finger.”

  “According to Dad, you don’t want to get married, thinking it an institution for the insane or weak-minded. As far as that string of broken-hearted men left in your wake, you’ve done more than your fair share, my darling sister,” Luke said, taking Ginny’s elbow and propelling her down the boardwalk toward home. “Blake was the first and apparently poor Nigel Pickford is the latest.”

  “How dare you bring up Blake or Nigel? You know Mother was beside herself when she thought I might actually marry Blake someday. Besides, he obviously didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him. In any case, we were both so young, how could we have possibly known what we felt was real? It was a childish infatuation.”

  “Really?” Luke asked, trying not to lose his patience with his sister. He knew leaving Blake had been traumatic for her and he wondered if she’d ever again allow herself to love anyone.

  “Really, you... you… barbaric cavedweller. In case you haven’t noticed, women are capable of carrying on a fulfilling life without marrying or having children. Furthermore, cease in your efforts to throw Blake and I together. I mean it. Be nice or I’ll leave and not tell you, or anyone else, where I’m going.”

  “Now, Ginny Lou, just calm down,” Luke said, stopping her outside the kitchen door. Taking a deep breath, he remembered with perfect clarity why he hadn’t minded being on the opposite side of the country from his sister. She was every bit as mule-headed and opinionated as him. Maybe even more so. “I’m sorry I brought up Nigel. I know he must be awful for you to run off and not even tell the folks where you were going. By the way, I received a telegram from them today.”

  “What did they say?” Ginny asked as they went in the kitchen door and removed their outerwear.

  “To tell you if you ever disappear like that again, I have permission to beat you into submission.”

  Ginny shook her head at Luke, knowing he was teasing.

  “Hello, wife!” Luke said, sweeping Filly into a hug and kissing her on the lips on his way through the kitchen to wash his hands in the bathroom.

  Somewhat appalled by the blatant displays of affection between Luke and Filly, Ginny secretly wished she’d someday know that kind of love.

  “Here’s your sugar,” Ginny said, setting the basket on the counter and washing her hands at the kitchen sink. “May I help with anything?”

  “Can you slice the bread?” Filly asked as she ladled stew into bowls and set them on the table.

  “Even I can manage that much,” Ginny said, her good humor restored after her discussion with Luke.

  “Thank you,” Filly said, filling glasses with milk, setting butter and jam on the table, and finishing the final layer of frosting on a chocolate cake.

  Ginny set the bread on the table and looked around, counting four place settings. Blake must still be working upstairs.

  Holding back the groan of despair that threatened to erupt from her throat, she gave her brother a harsh look as he returned to the kitchen, Blake following behind him.

  “Blake’s doing a great job up there,” Luke said, motioning the carpenter to the table. Blake held out Ginny’s chair and waited while Luke held Filly’s before taking a seat, exhibiting the fine manners his parents taught him.

  “I hate to see the wood ruined. It’s such beautiful walnut,” Blake said, bowing his head as Luke offered thanks for the meal.

  “Can you salvage any of it?” Luke asked, passing the bread to Blake and smiling at his wife for preparing one of his favorite meals.

  “It would be small pieces, if any,” Blake said, buttering his bread and slathering it with berry jam.

  “If you can use it for something, take it,” Luke said, nodding his approval at Filly as he took a bite of tender beef.

  “I’ll pay you for what I can use,” Blake said, savoring the rich stew and warm bread, as well as the company. Ginny sat next to him and her light, floral fragrance teased his nose above the appetizing scents of the meal.

  “Nonsense,” Luke said, looking at Blake. “I’d have to haul it off or find something to do with it, so you’re doing me a favor by taking it.”

  Blake nodded his head in acceptance and continued eating his meal. Filly asked if he’d heard from his parents lately. When he nodded his head, she inquired about an addition they recently added to their home in the English countryside.

  Ginny sat entranced, listening to Blake’s voice and his descriptions of the landscape around his parents’ country home.

  Growing up, rumors abounded about the Stratton family. One of the most prevalent was that Blake’s parents, Robert and Sarah, were disgraced royalty, disowned and run out of the country for some heinous deed.

  Spending many hours in their company, Ginny couldn’t picture either of them doing anything unlawful, cruel, or evil. They both were always so compassionate and kind. Blake’s mother was loving, witty and domestic - the epitome of what Ginny wished her mother would be when she was a young girl. Robert Stratton was terrible at farming, but he had a wonderful way with horses. When Ginny moved from Hardman, he had built up quite a reputation for training and breeding only the best.

  “I wish we could see their home someday,” Filly said, smiling wistfully at Luke.

  “My family would welcome you with open arms,” Blake said, grinning at Filly then Luke. “If you ever want to go for a visit, just let me know. They’d love to see a friendly face or two from here.”

  “That’s a kind offer,” Luke said, thinking it would be fun to take Filly on an extended trip. “Maybe in the spring.”

  “Did you visit any villages when you were in England, Ginny?” Filly asked, looking at her with interest.

  “No. I spent all my time in London,” Ginny said. In fact, she spent most of her time trying to evade Nigel and his ardent pursuit of her hand in marriage.

  “No doubt you became well versed with the offerings at the theater, the best dress shops, and perhaps a confectionery or two,” Blake teased, knowing Ginny well.

  “Perhaps,” she sai
d, annoyed he would know exactly how she spent her time in the city.

  Luke asked Blake questions about his carpentry business then the conversation moved to a project Chauncy asked him to complete for the Christmas season. Ginny only half listened, turning her attention instead to the fact that it didn’t sound like Blake had a lot of work lined up, other than new pews at the church.

  Deciding she’d make it her mission to drum up business for Blake, her mind began whirling with possibilities.

  Chapter Four

  Blake whistled as he walked through town, looking in store windows and waving at friends. He started to stroll past the mercantile when Percy Bruner ran out the door and caught his attention.

  “Mr. Stratton, my ma wants to talk to you. Can you come in for a minute?” Percy asked with a gap-toothed smile.

  “Of course, young man,” Blake said, ruffling Percy’s tousled red hair and grinning at the boy’s bright freckles, untucked shirt, and dirt-covered knees. Almost eight, Percy was quite a handful for his parents to manage, even if he was a hard little worker.

  Stepping into the store, the scents of leather and gunpowder mixed with cinnamon and dill, creating an interesting aroma in the fall air. Pumpkins sat in a large barrel by the door and Blake recalled seeing Filly cart one home the previous afternoon from where he worked on the frame of the upstairs bedroom window.

  Ginny had been conspicuously absent from the house the past two days and he wondered if pressing his lips to her palm had unsettled her as much as it had him.

  He knew it was nothing short of foolish to entertain any thoughts of the woman, but he couldn’t quite force the vision of her in that peach-colored gown from his mind. The only thing that chased it away was picturing her dripping mud, standing in the street looking like a half-drowned kitten. That image always made him laugh and the thought of it forced a broad smile to break out across his face.

  Raising a hand to Aleta Bruner to let her know he’d wait while she helped the customer at the counter, he wandered over to look through their selection of work gloves. He’d worn a hole through the fingers of his and needed a new pair. Trying on a few, he made his selection and stepped up to the counter.