Twice Upon a Soul

by Deborah R Stigall

  Taylor did as she was told, then slid from the board to weave unsteadily on her feet as Zelda pulled aside the curtain and held out her hand to support her. Helping her back into the bed, Zelda plumped and positioned the fat feather pillows behind Taylor’s back to support her in an upright position. Once she was settled, Zelda ladled up a wooden bowl full of the delicious smelling broth, handing it to Taylor.

  Inhaling the fragrant steam rising from the bowl, Taylor couldn’t decide if the bowl held some sort of vegetable stew or just a thick herbal broth; but at this point she was so hungry she didn’t really care. Balancing the bowl in the palm of one hand, she eagerly dug into the savory soup with the wooden spoon, immediately delighted at the rich unusual flavor meeting her lips.

  “Eat slowly or Her will toss it all back up,” Zelda instructed sternly, placing an icy cup of cider to Taylor’s lips between bites of the filling broth. Wiping Taylor’s mouth with a rough cloth retrieved from her belt, Zelda smiled and nodded as Taylor obediently slowed her ravenous pace.

  “Her is wise ta’ listen ta’ Zelda. Zelda will see that Her is better verra soon.” Zelda gave Taylor another sip of the cider then set the cup on the table beside the bed.

  Pausing between bites, Taylor eyed Zelda then finally decided to ask the question that was gnawing at her heart. “Zelda….when will the gateway be open again? I have to get back…I just came here to get Quinlan and leave…I can’t stay here forever.”

  Frowning, Zelda picked up a heavy wooden brush and slowly began smoothing Taylor’s hair away from her face. Placing the spoon in the empty bowl, Taylor took another deep draught of the icy cider then arched her brows at Zelda, as she awaited the answer.

  Taking the bowl from Taylor’s lap, Zelda turned away to return the dishes to the washbasin beside the hearth. Keeping her back to Taylor, Zelda scrubbed furiously at the eating utensils submerged in the sudsy water. Just as Taylor began to wonder if Zelda was ever going to answer her, the tiny woman spoke as she continued to viciously attack the dishes in the tub. “Is question Her must ask the Laird when tonight he comes ta’ visit Her. Not proper for Zelda ta’ speak o’such powerful things.”

  Leaning back against the pillows, Taylor started to resume the brushing of her hair where Zelda had left off. As she raised the brush to her head, Zelda dropped the dishes, quickly rushing back to the side of the bed. “No! Is not proper! Her must let Zelda do these things for Her.” Snatching the brush from Taylor’s hands, Zelda gently began working out all of the snarls, smoothing the long blonde tresses into a flowing river of silk across the pillows.

  Taylor sat in amazement; slightly uncomfortable with Zelda’s fussing. What was wrong with her brushing her own hair? What sort of customs was Zelda used to? With nimble fingers, Zelda quickly fashioned two thin braids to either side of Taylor’s face, then pulled these to the back of her head, securing them with an elaborately carved wooden comb. The remainder of Taylor’s hair she left hanging loose and flowing across her shoulders, held away from her face by the two narrow braids supported with the comb.

  When Zelda had finished her fussing, she held aloft a polished metal disk for Taylor to survey the results. Smiling her thanks at the motherly sprite, Taylor reached out and gently touched Zelda’s hand. “You know…I’m feeling stronger all the time…you don’t have to do everything for me.” Taylor watched the sprite closely, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

  Zelda placed the polished disk back upon the table, wagging a bony finger in Taylor’s face as she spoke. “Is not ta’ do with strength. Is ta’ do with Her being the Laird’s chosen wife. Is Zelda’s calling ta’ care for Her…ta’ help Her throughout Her life.” Nodding seriously to accent her words, Zelda continued as she smoothed out the bedding around Taylor’s body, turning to head toward a trunk across the room. “Her will be thankful Zelda is here when the babies start ta’ come.”

  Her mouth dropping open in alarm, Taylor shook her in disagreement. “Now wait a minute, Zelda…I don’t know what Quinlan has told you or led you to believe…but I don’t ever remember us being married….” Plucking uncomfortably at the covers, she wriggled nervously on the bed. “I’ve only come here to get Quinlan out of this…time lock or whatever. Then we’ll see where we go from here.”

  “Her simply doesna’ remember… Her will see it is so with time,” Zelda replied, pulling a delicate white shift from the trunk and shaking the wrinkles from the folds.

  “I just came here to help Quinlan escape,” Taylor repeated. “I’m fascinated by him…but I don’t even know him.” She raised her voice to make Zelda hear her words, as Zelda pulled the shift over her head and helped her arms through the sleeves.

  Clucking her tongue as she shook her white head, Zelda smoothed Taylor’s hair once more then helped Taylor comfortably straighten the folds of the gown beneath the blankets. “Her will see… Her will see,” was all the attentive sprite would respond.

  Shaking her head with resignation, Taylor finally gave up and lay back against the pillows in disgust. Fatigue quickly reclaiming her after her brief trip to the toilet and her breakfast in bed, Taylor found her chin nodding to her chest as she struggled to stay awake. Fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open, the last thing she remembered was the sight of Zelda’s face smiling down at her as she pulled the blankets up to her chin, gently patting her pale cheek before she disappeared from view.

  ~*~

  The cold blast of wind wafting across her face brought Taylor back to consciousness, pulling her abruptly from her deep and dreamless sleep. At the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as it was positioned closer to the bed, Taylor opened her eyes to find herself staring into the concerned icy blue eyes of Quinlan Macleod.

  “And how are ye feelin’ lass?” he asked quietly, smiling as he gently took her hand into his. Her delicate pale hand seemed lost in his large work roughened palm. Cradling her hand, his touch was soft and warm, sending a tingling shiver up her spine. What was it about the slightest touch that would seem to send fire through her body?

  It was strange to actually be able to touch him, sitting before her…a man of flesh and blood. Taylor was used to practically looking right through him as she had done during all of his previous visits.

  Smiling shyly, Taylor nodded, scooting up into a sitting position against the plump pillows at her back. “I’m feeling a lot better then I was…thanks to your friend’s excellent care.”

  A shuffle slightly to the side of Quinlan revealed the blushing Zelda, head bowed and hand to her mouth as she overheard Taylor’s words. Her complexion usually a soft hint of green, the color of her cheeks seemed to deepen to the color of rich ivy in embarrassed pleasure at the compliment.

  Grinning at Zelda’s uncomfortable countenance, Quinlan nodded as he agreed with Taylor. “Aye…she’s a miracle worker, she is. I’d no’ have survived as long as I have if no’ for the care of Mistress Zelda.”

  Unable to bear any more words of praise, Zelda cleared her throat as she pulled her cloak from its hook. “Zelda must see ta’ the herbs and the brews. Dinna let Her be sitting up too long,” she sternly admonished. With those instructions given, she whooshed out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

  A deep rumbling chuckle roiling up from his chest, Quinlan winked at Taylor as he leaned closer to her. “I dinna think I can remember ever seeing Mistress Zelda so distressed! Ye seem ta’ have made quite an impression on her! She’s verra pleased to have ye back.”

  “She’s definitely made an impression on me,” Taylor commented drolly, as she wriggled to scoot to the side of the bed against the hills and valleys of the plump feather mattress.

  “Where d’ye think ye’re goin’?” Quinlan demanded, realizing Taylor was attempting to get out of bed.

  “If I don’t move around some and use my muscles, I’ll never get any stronger,” Taylor reasoned seriously. “And if you must know, I need to visit the board behind the curtain.” She blushed furiously as she said this, suddenly feeling very
self conscious at having to discuss her bodily functions with this man she barely knew.

  “The board behind the curtain?” Quinlan repeated, wrinkling his brow in confusion. At Taylor’s nod toward the curtained off corner of the room, his face suddenly brightened as he finally understood. “Ahhhh, the privy closet is what ye mean.”

  “Yes,” Taylor exhaled quickly, relieved that she wouldn’t be required to go any deeper into any explanations. “The privy closet…and by the way, where does all that cold air come from out of that hole?” she asked, grimacing at the memory of the zero degree wind zipping up her backside.

  Suppressing a smile, Quinlan attempted to explain, as he steadied Taylor’s wobbling body. “The iron pipe or sluice leads outside ta’ the drainage ditch, I’m afraid it is the north wind that’s a kissin’ at yer bum.”

  Pulling the curtain to one side as she maneuvered in behind it, Taylor good-naturedly nodded toward Quinlan as she replied, “Well….it doesn’t matter. After all, it’s only temporary until we get back to my part of the world.”

  As she pulled the curtain shut, she missed the shadowed look of dismay that briefly flashed across Quinlan’s face. Wearily lowering himself into the chair beside the bed, Quinlan nervously ran his fingers through his dark hair as he tried to figure out a way to tell Taylor the truth. Surely when he explained everything to her, she’d come to understand.

  She had to…he hadn’t waited this long, struggling through years of loneliness, to accept the fact that she could not love him because she’d been deceived. If only he could win her over, trigger her memories from the distant past before he had to tell her the truth.

  Emerging from behind the curtain, Taylor seemed to weave a bit, her equilibrium still a bit off due to her weakened state. As she veered slightly to the right, Quinlan leapt from the chair to steady her, gathering her shivering body close against his muscled chest.

  The wool of his tunic felt scratchy against her cheek, rough and foreign…unlike the feel of the manufactured cloth from Taylor’s time. But as Quinlan held her close, the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms felt so reassuring and familiar that she unconsciously snuggled closer against his chest. She inhaled deeply, his scent striking some chord deep within her soul. Freshly cut pines….a hint of wood smoke and the undeniable scent of a man capable of warming her without the need of a fire.

  Stroking her silky hair with one hand, Quinlan laid his cheek to the top of her head, closing his eyes in pure bliss at her return to his embrace. He’d waited so long to hold her like this again. Molten lava shot through his body, his desire barely held in check with the knowledge she was too weak to join with him as he longed to possess her completely.

  As Taylor realized what was happening, she stirred slightly in his embrace. Inhaling deeply as she pulled away from his arms, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. She barely knew Quinlan Macleod; it would be better to keep him at least at arm's length until she found out more about the man.

  Reluctantly releasing her from his arms, Quinlan helped her make the few steps to the bed. Gently helping her lift her feet from the floor, he carefully tucked the blankets firmly around her shivering body.

  Slowly reaching out to barely touch her cheek, Quinlan smiled slightly as he whispered, “I’ve waited so verra long for ye ta’ come back ta’ me. I can hardly believe ye’re really here.”

  Suddenly overcome with shyness, Taylor glanced at her hands clenched nervously in her lap. Peering up through her lashes into Quinlan’s magnetic gaze, she felt as though she was completely engulfed within the frosty blue depths of his eyes.

  Hugging herself tightly, Taylor inclined her head, the corner of her mouth pulling sadly to one side. “I wish I could remember you,” she whispered, mesmerized by the slow steady pulse ticking at the base of his throat.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Quinlan cradled her face in his hands, pressing his mouth softly against hers. He barely raked his lips across hers….brushing back and forth in a gentle caress. Her lips were just the way he’d remembered, sweet and warm to the taste.

  Shocked when Quinlan’s lips met hers, Taylor pushed herself back against the pillows. Quickly turning her face away, she placed a restraining hand against his chest. The back of her other hand pressed against her lips, her eyes wide with astonishment, Taylor stared up into Quinlan’s face, confused and half-afraid.

  She knew very little of this Quinlan Macleod. Here she lay in some unknown place, in some unknown land. She’d come here to rescue him from this place where he’d seemed trapped…to return him to their world…she hadn’t fought her way through all of this supernatural entanglement for an immediate roll in the hay with someone she barely knew. She hadn’t guarded her virginity this long to toss it so quickly aside.

  Pushing weakly against his chest, Taylor struggled to sort through the feelings reeling through her body. Strangely, somewhere deep within her, she wanted him….she could feel the heat quickly building…turning into a raging fire at her very core. But how could she want him so easily…this man she barely knew? And it wasn’t just physically…it was an aching need she couldn’t quite describe. “Quinlan…don’t,” she stuttered breathlessly. “I d-don’t even know you…”

  “Forgive me, my own,” he begged, immediately moving to the chair beside the bed. Once again cradling her hand within his, he gently raised it to his lips. “I didna’ mean ta’ push ye, lass. Ye’re still weak…and the memories are still afar. But I couldna’ help but taste those t lips…I’ve been awaitin’ ye for so verra long.”

  His face bronze and strong in the firelight, his eyes seemed to burn beneath his ebony brows as the blue depths held a fire all their own. A crooked smile slowly crept up one side of his face, as his eyes crinkled in happiness. “We have all the time in the world together…we dinna have ta’ rush a thing.”

  Gradually relaxing back against the pillows, Taylor’s heart quickened at the mention of time. “When can we go back through the gateway, Quinlan? I know Mattie’s going to be absolutely beside herself if I don’t hurry and return soon.”

  The smile slowly disappearing from his face, Quinlan carefully placed Taylor’s hand back into her lap. “Ye’re still much too week ta’ be talkin’ of fightin’ the passageway again. Once ye’re healed completely, we’ll work everything out.”

  Abruptly rising to walk across the room to the hearth, Quinlan busied himself preparing Taylor a bowl of broth. Reaching into an oddly carved out stone upon the mantle, Quinlan deftly sprinkled a pinch of sparkling powder into the bubbling liquid.

  Peering down into the bowl as he handed it to her, Taylor cocked her head suspiciously to one side as she studied the sparkling crystals resting on the surface of the broth. “What was that stuff you sprinkled in it?”

  “Healing crystals from the caverns of Nimue,” Quinlan replied, handing her a delicately carved wooden spoon. “Zelda collects them, grinds them and mixes them. She’s a verra gifted healer.”

  Dipping the tip of the spoon into the broth and hesitantly touching it to her tongue, Taylor’s face relaxed into a smile at the familiar flavor of the delicious broth she’d eaten earlier. “I guess I didn’t see Zelda put that stuff in there before,” she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “It didn’t seem to hurt me before…so, I guess it’s safe for me to eat it now.”

  “I would never give ye anything that might harm ye. Ye must know that m’love.” Tucking a rough cloth into the neck of her shift, he smiled as he dabbed up a droplet of soup from her chin. “Now eat yer soup like a good lass…whilst I go and tend ta’ the fire.”

  Watching Quinlan from her perch on the bed, Taylor obediently set to finishing her soup. Her head slightly bowed over her bowl; covertly watching Quinlan’s every movement with avid interest. Her gaze settled with appreciation on the rippling muscles of his back beneath the linen shirt stretched smoothly across his body. As he hefted a huge log into the fire, her artistic eye admired the clean line of his wide shoulders narrowing to
a taut stomach. The leather breeches he wore tucked snugly into his boots only accentuated his firm muscular legs. No wonder Sir Joshua had chosen him as a subject for a portrait. Those chiseled features, the smooth flowing lines; Quinlan’s body was pleasing to the artistic eye. How smooth would those muscles feel if she were to run her hands slowly across his body?

  Feeling her eyes roaming all over his body, Quinlan turned quickly to catch Taylor within his own stare. Catching the slight tinge of red slowly creeping up around her guilt-ridden eyes, Quinlan turned back to stirring the coals, smiling to himself. A slow warmth of happiness gradually spreading through his chest, only occasionally pricked with the uncomfortable knowledge that soon he’d have to tell Taylor the truth.

  Returning to the side of her bed, Quinlan took the empty bowl from her hands. Setting it to one side on the table, Quinlan turned to tuck the blankets back up around her chin. “Ye must try and sleep a bit more. Rest is the best healer of all.”

  “But I don’t want to go back to sleep….I want you to tell me more about the passageway…this place,” she argued, her words trailing off into a yawn. Eyeing Quinlan suspiciously beneath her drooping eyelids, Taylor stubbornly rubbed her eyes in a vain attempt at keeping them open. “Those crystals…that stuff is putting me to sleep…isn’t it?” she accused him with a frown.

  Nodding as he blew out the candle beside the bed, Quinlan gently patted Taylor’s shoulder through the covers. “Aye…the powders help ye ta’ drift off ta’ sleep. ‘Tis the only way for ye ta’ truly heal. Dinna be angry with me, Taylor…yer body is in terrible need of rest.”

  Yawning as she snuggled down deeper into the pillows, Taylor frowned as she struggled to fight away the sleep. “We will discuss this further tomorrow,” she mumbled as her eyelids closed again. “You’ve no right to force me to….” her voice trailed off as she finally lost the battle with the healing crystals and drifted peacefully off to sleep.