The Fragrance of Her Name (24 page)

“
No. I’m afraid not,” Brant said, grinning and obviously amused.

Immediately Lauryn’s face turned crimson and burned with a terrible blush. Sometimes she was certain she hated Sean. He always, always humiliated her when she least wanted him to.

“
Sean O’Halleran Kensington,” Georgia scolded, arriving in time to hear him taunting his sister.

“
Oh, go on, Mama,” Sean argued. “If Lauryn thinks she can spend all these years goin’ on to me about Mr. Perfectly Imperfect and not have to take some teasin’ for it, she’s wrong.”

Lauryn’s mother looked to her with sympathetically and nodded to reassure her she shouldn’t let Sean bother her. But being humiliated in front of everyone was hard to swallow. And furthermore, she loathed the way Sean always made fun of her romantic ideals.

“
That’s enough, Sean,” Georgia reminded him.

“
Who’s this Mr. Perfect?” Brant’s Aunt Felicity asked.

“
Why…Lauryn’s dream man, of course,” Sean offered.

“
Sean!” Georgia tried to halt her son’s assault on his sister, but he was determined.

“
Every girl should have her ideal in mind long before she’s old enough to be looking,” Aunt Felicity stated, going to Lauryn and taking her hand reassuringly. “Otherwise she’ll end up with some devil that can never make her happy.” Lauryn smiled, happy to have an advocate. But her relief was short lived. For Aunt Felicity continued. “And I say there’s no better man on earth than my dear nephew here. Don’t you think so, Lauryn sweetie?”

Sean burst into a roar of laughter. And everyone in the room enjoyed their own giggles and snickers—everyone except Lauryn. Brant, though he didn’t laugh, couldn’t keep an amused grin from spreading across his handsome face. And even as Georgia scolded Sean again, she, herself, smiled with delight.

It was Brant who finally came to Lauryn’s rescue just a moment before tears of humiliation escaped her eyes.

“
Poor Lauryn,” he sympathized with a smile. “Trapped in a room full of teasing fools.” He went to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Don’t you worry, sugar,” he began. “Brothers always get theirs. Always.” He squeezed her shoulders once more in his powerful arm and releasing her said with a chuckle, “I think Aunt Felicity is right, after all. If a girl isn’t selective…she might end up with quite the devil. Isn’t that right, Mindy?”

Everyone laughed again, including Sean, who suddenly embraced Lauryn affectionately. “You’re a tough little dish, sweet sissy,” he told her. “I do love you, so.”

Lauryn’s heart softened and she returned her brother’s embrace. “I love you, too. Even if you are a terrible tease,” she confessed.

“
Well, I am certain y’all must be tired after your trip. We’ll have some cool lemonade and get everyone tucked in cozy, alright?” Georgia suggested.

“
Indeed,” Uncle Johnny confirmed.

“
Um, Mrs. Kensington?” Brant began.

As both Georgia and Nana simultaneously answered, “Yes?” Brant specified, “Virginia.”

“
Yes, love?” Nana said smiling. “Lauryn and I were wondering if we could talk to you a moment.”

“
Yes,” Lauryn added. “Brant has somethin’ he’d like to ask you.” Brant winked at her, grinning.

“
Why of course, angels.” Nana assured them. Let’s go out on the porch. It’s such a lovely night.”

Once settled in the comfortable wicker furniture on the porch, evening breezes heavy with the fragrance of the wisteria, it was Brant who did, indeed, pose the question.

“
For most of my youth, Laura carried a small teacup with her,” he said. “Although she hasn’t had it with her for years, whenever I ask about it she just responds,
‘my sister’
and seems satisfied in knowing that you are well. Can you give…. why would she have had a teacup with her and where is it now? That’s making me insane. It seems like a small thing, I know. But it just…it just…”

“
It seems to me, too, that it would be important, Nana,” Lauryn offered.

Virginia frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t begin to imagine.” She paused a moment and then asked, “Tell me what it looks like.”

“
It was small,” Brant explained. “Too small to be a normal tea cup.”

“
Maybe it’s a demitasse,” Lauryn offered.

“
What pattern?” Nana asked. Brant simply wrinkled his brow, clueless as to what she meant.

Lauryn smiled. After all, china patterns were almost always purely a feminine interest. She would’ve been quite astonished had he actually known what Nana was talking about.

“
What color was it? Did it have flowers painted on it?” Lauryn explained.

Brant shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a little teacup…thing. Small and white…maybe it had flowers on it. Maybe I imagined that part.”

“
Well,” Nana was thoughtful. “When I was very little we use to have make-believe tea parties. We had a little table and a little set of china, a children’s set. The pieces were white, embellished with tiny lavender flowers. We’d play for hours and hours! Just us sisters. I cherished those moments, and even though the memory is faded…I cherish it. I was younger, after all, and it was a kind thing to do…to play with me like that.”

“
But why would Lauryn have a tea cup with her?” Lauryn asked.

“
I don’t know,” Nana mused. “I haven’t seen that tea set for…” Then her face brightened. Her eyebrows rose, and her eyes widened as if she’d just seen a vision. “I haven’t seen that tea set since before the battle, since before Laura disappeared.”

Lauryn felt excitement rise within her. Brant had been right! She knew it! The teacup Laura carried with her was significant somehow.

“
Where did you last see it?” Brant asked. Lauryn could sense the excitement in him as well.

Nana shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s been so long ago.” She paused, seeming pensive. “I think…I think in the cellar.”

“
The old root cellar?” Lauryn asked.

“
Yes. We use to play tea party in there,” Nana answered.

“
In the root cellar?” Lauryn exclaimed. “What a gloomy place to play.”

“
Oh, the cellar use to be different, Lauryn,” Nana explained. “It wasn’t as dirty and nasty as it is now. It used to be quite nice, the way I remember. And on a rainy day, when the house seemed too stuffy, the root cellar was a blessed escape.”

“
Well,” Brant exclaimed fairly leaping to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“
It’s pitch black out!” Lauryn reminded him.

“
That’s what lanterns are for, sugar,” he chuckled. “Are you coming along, Mrs. Kensington?”

“
Not me,” Nana laughed. “I’ll leave the rootin’ around in that spider and mice infested ol’ cellar to you young people.”



“
I hate that creepy ol’ cellar,” Lauryn mumbled as she and Brant walked through the grass toward the cellar. “Even in the daytime.” Brant held the lantern firmly in one hand to light their way.

“
Oh, come on,” Brant urged. “I’ll go with you. I can’t believe you didn’t show this to me before.”

“
It’s hardly more than an ol’ hole in the ground,” she explained. “I’ve been there plenty of times and there’s nothin’ special about it. It’s crawlin’ with spiders and mice and I hate it. Anyway, you couldn’t have….” Lauryn paused when she realized what she was about to say.

“
I couldn’t have seen it?” Brant finished for her, smiling. “I know that I couldn’t see before, Lauryn. You don’t have to be uncomfortable referring to it.”

“
I know.” Lauryn smiled at him noticing the way the moonlight made his teeth seem all the more perfectly white.

When they’d reached the door leading down into the cellar, Lauryn told him, “You’ll have to be the one to open it. It never fails that somethin’ comes a scurryin’ out of there and scares the waddin’ out of me.”

Brant chuckled. “All right. I’ll play the knight in shining armor.” Lauryn smiled at him. How absolutely exciting it was to be outside in the dark, alone with him. Had the situation been different, had their intent been simply a leisurely stroll, it would have been quite romantic.

The old root cellar of Connemara was, indeed, a hole in the ground. And sure enough, as Brant lifted one side of the heavy door, a multitude of spiders scurried hither and thither causing Lauryn’s skin to crawl and a quiet squeal to escape her throat. Brant merely chuckled, as most men would have, no doubt, finding her being startled by a few of the earth’s eight-legged creatures to be quite amusing.

“
I told you,” Lauryn reminded him, glad that she’d wound her hair into a tight knot at the back of her head before dinner. A spider in her hair was one of her worst, reoccurring nightmares. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!”

As they descended the ancient and rotting wooden stairs into the dark, musty, cellar, Lauryn’s anxiety increased ten fold. She looked up noting that, although her great grandfather O’Halleran had lined the cellar walls with wooden planking, in many places the strong, winding roots of the wisteria trees above had pushed through the paneling growing in odd tangles on the ceiling. Now the cellar was more frightening than even she remembered.

“
You see. It’s just a creepy ol’ hole in the ground!” Lauryn exclaimed. “How on earth Nana could’ve thought this was a fun place to play…and especially tea party…is completely beyond me.”

Brant grinned. Lauryn thought for a moment that the man seemed perpetually amused at her expense. But as long as he was smiling, she didn’t seem to mind the reason.

Holding up the lantern, Brant mumbled, “There’s nothing in here.”

“
Oh, yes there is!” Lauryn squealed as she felt something with eight legs crawling on her arm. Screeching hysterically, she began running in place and slapping at her arm. Brant quickly set the lantern down on the dirt floor and took hold of Lauryn’s arm, flicking the spider from her body with one quick motion.

Lauryn stood trembling with residual horror, realizing that, in her mad dancing to try to brush off the spider, her wild mass of hair had come unpinned and hung in tangled ringlets down her back and over her shoulders…a perfectly luscious temptation for arachnids.

“
Are you all right?” Brant asked, unable to halt the chuckle that accompanying his question.

Lauryn scratched her arm where the spider had been, the sensation of its tiny legs still fresh upon her skin. “I hate it in here!” she reminded him.

“
Yeah. I can see that,” he told her. Calmly, he reached down and retrieved the lantern holding it up once more as he peered into the darkness of the cellar. As he took several steps toward the furthest corner of the room, Lauryn reflexively reached out, taking hold of his arm for support and comfort.

“
I know what you’re thinkin’,” she whispered. “Every time I come down here I half expect to see a skeleton all dressed in a hooped skirt, propped up in that corner.” As always, there was nothing there—only an empty barrel no doubt a cozy hiding place for millions of things with eight legs. A small, child-sized chair, missing a leg and sadly forgotten lay on the floor nearby.

“
A piece of the past?” Brant asked.

“
Maybe,” Lauryn admitted. There were several other forgotten items in the cellar—an old potato planter, a bridle that hung on a hook on one wall and several ancient-looking wooden buckets stacked up together. There was nothing to indicate Lauralynn had ever been there. Of course, Lauryn knew this already and soon grew impatient. Then, when a tiny shrew scurried across her right foot, she was completely undone.

Screeching like a mad banshee, she again began running in place frantically. “Brant Masterson! I’ll not spend another horrible moment in this place unless you give me a darn good reason!”

Brant chuckled again. This time, however, instead of taking hold of Lauryn’s arm, he placed a strong arm around her waist and lifted her up for a moment.

“
Fine. Just stand on my feet.” Lauryn did as ordered. Her body completely flush with his, one of his powerful arms tightly around her, she placed her small feet one each on top of his. The situation demanded that she put her arms around his neck. There was no other way to balance herself on his feet. It was a completely inappropriate, fascinating and fabulous predicament.

Obviously satisfied with his investigation of the cellar, Brant walked toward the door leading up and out. It seemed like having her standing on his feet didn’t inconvenience him at all. For, other than his legs being stiffer than usual, he walked as if she were not even there. Lauryn thought back briefly to the day her father had taught her the waltz. He’d had her stand on his feet in the same manner as he counted out the dance steps so that she could feel which way her feet would need to travel when being led. But this! This was much different!

First of all, their bodies, Brant’s and her own, were completely together, tighter than any hug Lauryn had experienced with a man. Any man! Secondly she could feel the solid definition of the muscles of his chest and legs against her own. It was completely improper. Completely! And it was entirely marvelous. Entirely!

But her zenith was short lived. As soon as they reached the stairs and he released her, the intense guilt began. The moment Brant had taken her to him, the moment she had wrapped her arms around him, she’d forgotten their purpose for going to the cellar. Lauralynn had been driven from her mind by her attraction to Brant. It was a traitorous act on Lauryn’s part.