Twice Upon a Soul

by Deborah R Stigall

  Disgust clearly reflected in her face, Taylor’s eyes narrowed as she sneered, “Magnus said you sent him to watch over me…protect me. But you really sent him to make sure I didn’t find out the truth…didn’t you!” Panting with rage, as she lay crouched among the bed sheets, Taylor watched Quinlan’s face for his answer.

  The muscles in his jaw rippling as he clenched his teeth, Quinlan dropped his gaze to the floor. Flopping with despair onto the edge of the bed, he raised his eyes to stare with unveiled guilt at Taylor as he replied with a simple, “Aye.”

  Her rage turning to utter desolation at the finality of the situation, Taylor shook her head, sobbing as she turned her face to the wall. She couldn’t bear the site of him now. How could she have been so foolish to trust him? With a shudder, Taylor closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. She was lost forever in this god forsaken land…no home…no friends. How could she ever have been so gullible? What would happen to Mattie…to Drake? Her tears streamed even faster down her paling cheeks as she thought of Chandler, the memory of his trusting gray eyes sparkling in his handsome face. Why hadn’t she settled for comfortable and predictable? Look where her quest for excitement and passion had left her now.

  As she huddled closer to the wall, the silent tears gave way to muffled sobbing. What in the world was she going to do? She wished she’d died in the gateway through the cairn, she’d have been better off dead then awakening to this reality!

  ~*~

  “Her must be given time ta’ adjust,” Zelda intoned quietly to Quinlan, placing his breakfast on the table.

  Looking across the room at Taylor silently staring out the window, Quinlan felt his heart wrench in his chest at the sight of her face filled with despair. She had refused to eat anything for the past two days. It was as though she were wishing herself dead. She had just begun regaining her strength, even able to move around the room a bit. But at the rate she was going, she’d soon be returning to her weakened state, or he feared even worse…she’d be dead. Pleading and cajoling did no good; she’d only turn her face away from them to stare vacantly out into space.

  Slowly approaching her, Quinlan reached out, gently laying his hand on her arm. “Come ta’ the table…lass…ye must eat,” he said quietly, his deep voice rich and soothing. Perhaps if he treated her like one of the wee skittish colts…maybe then he could coax her into eating.

  Flinching at the touch of his hand, Taylor jerked her arm away as though she’d been singed by a branding iron. Eyes narrowing, she glared up into his face, jutting her chin out stubbornly. “I’ll eat when I’m ready…now leave me alone!” she hissed weakly. “I think you’ve interfered enough in my life.”

  His mouth pressing into a firm hard line, Quinlan shook his head at Taylor’s stubbornness. He pitied the lass and ached at her suffering but this foolishness had lasted long enough. The thought of her slowly starving herself to death was beginning to kindle a rage within his own chest. How dare she treat her body with such disrespect! If she was angry with him…fight him. Don’t take it out on herself. “I know ye’re angry with me, Taylor. But it does no’ make sense ta’ deprive yer body of nourishment! Now…please…come ta’ the table and eat…or let me bring a plate over here to your chair.”

  “I’ll worry about my own body…thank you. I really don’t think it’s any of your damn business!” Taylor snapped, crossing her arms across her chest in a weak attempt to muffle the noise of her protesting stomach. “Traitor!” she thought angrily to her stomach as the smell of Zelda’s freshly baked biscuits wafted across the room.

  Eyeing Taylor with his head cocked slightly to one side, Quinlan nodded once to himself, in silent decision of a plan of action. Quickly scooping Taylor off her feet, he tossed her lightly over one of his broad shoulders. He seemed oblivious to her enraged obscenities and her pummeling fists went unnoticed as well. Reaching the bench beside the kitchen table, he straddled it…sat, then placed her square upon his lap, holding her wrists tightly together behind her back within one of his large hands. With the other hand he grabbed a hot buttered biscuit from the nearby wooden plate, holding it firmly against Taylor’s lips, he ordered, “Eat!”

  Tears of anger welling up in her eyes, Taylor muttered through her clenched teeth, “No! Burn in Hell!”

  Ignoring her curses, his nostrils flaring, Quinlan smeared the biscuit across her mouth. Forcing a few crumbs between her lips, he ordered again, “Eat!”

  Spitting in his face, Taylor smiled triumphantly as he calmly wiped his face with one hand. Her victory short-lived, the smile slowly faded from her face as Quinlan picked up another piece of biscuit. As Quinlan inhaled deeply, glaring at Taylor with narrowed eyes, he quietly but firmly spoke in a very controlled voice. “Ye are m’wife and I’ll not see ye starve yourself. Ye will eat if I have ta’ ram this biscuit down yer stubborn throat until it doesna’ come up again!”

  Her chest heaving with rage, as her face grew even hotter, Taylor spat out the words with the next bite of force-fed biscuit. “Because I’m your wife…because I’m your wife…is that the only reason you think you need? You think you can do anything to me just because I’m your wife! Well…I’ve got news for you, Quinlan…I may be your wife, as you say, but I damn sure don’t have to love you and I can pretty much guarantee you that I never will. Do what you want…after all I’m trapped here. But while you’re doing it…just remember how much I loathe you!”

  His face gone pale with shock, Quinlan stared at Taylor, unable to believe the icy vehemence in her tone. How could she feel this way? They had married beneath the stars…had made love until they were both so weak they could only lay panting in each other arms…were tormented when they were torn apart...the memories were there…she had to feel them somehow. As Quinlan watched the snapping green eyes, he realized with a jolt, that Taylor had not been only referring to his force-feeding her. Obviously, she though him quite capable of rape as well as the good-intentioned treachery.

  Sliding Taylor carefully off his lap, Quinlan released her wrists as he tossed the biscuit to the table. Looking at Zelda with grief-stricken eyes, he brushed his hands against his breeches as he spoke. “I’ll be packin’ the rest of m’things ta’ move them ta’ the northern turret.”

  Straightening proudly as he stared unblinking into Taylor’s eyes, he continued, his voice strained with anger. “Ye need not fear my forcing myself upon ye. I’m no’ in the habit of raping women. I’ll ne’er touch ye again, without ye bidden me ta’ do so.” Retrieving his long woolen cloak from the peg beside the door, Quinlan turned to glare reproachfully at her…agony reflecting in the depths of his icy blue gaze as he searched her face for some scrap of memory from the past. “Ye will always be m’wife as I will always be yer husband. I’ll ne’er release ye from the oath…made as we stood beneath the stars and sworn before the full moon. I’m verra sorry to have deceived ye…perhaps someday ye will understand. But until then I suppose I shall just have to be content with having a wife that hates me.” With that said, Quinlan strode purposely out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  Taylor turned back to the table, dropping her head to her hands. Her eyes were swollen and her head was throbbing as though it would split in two. After the past two nights, she didn’t see how she could have any tears left to cry. Yet even as this thought crossed her mind, two small salty streams of tears slowly flowed down both cheeks.

  At the sound of a soft thud beside her head upon the table, Taylor looked up to find a steaming mug of tea. Staring dejectedly into the dark swirling liquid, Taylor cupped her trembling hands around the mug as though holding on for dear life.

  “Will help Her head ta’ feel less aching,” Zelda explained, as she swept up the bits of scattered biscuit. “Will help the food ta’ stay inside Her now that Her would eat,” she added as she placed a freshly buttered biscuit next to Taylor’s hand, the request silent but firm. Glancing at Taylor’s tear streaked face, Zelda shook her head sadly. “Her has hurt him deep withi
n his heart. Her must see that Her husband is good man.”

  “He lied to me…Zelda…and he’s NOT my husband! I think I’d remember it if I’d actually been married to a man like Quinlan!” Taylor snapped in irritation, grabbing her head as her own voice pounded in her ears. Hoping to avoid further conversation, she carefully sipped at the steaming tea. Nose wrinkling in disgust, Taylor grimaced as she spit the tea back into the cup. “Uggh! What is this? It’s awful!”

  Zelda shook her slender finger sternly in Taylor’s face as she scolded in an exasperated voice. “Is herbs ta’ make Her heal. Dinna test Zelda! Zelda not soft like Laird! Zelda will go to Furies! Will go to Goddess herself!” Zelda glared at Taylor, silently daring her to defy her. Her deep purple eyes snapping with impatience, as her overwhelming concern for Taylor’s wellbeing finally boiled over into anger.

  Sensing the seriousness in Zelda’s voice, Taylor obediently sipped at the awful brew. Forcing herself to swallow the bitter liquid, she was soon pleasantly surprised to find that her head was gradually ceasing to throb. She broke off a piece of the tender flaky biscuit and carefully washed it down with another sip of the herbal infusion.

  “Zelda will take Her ta’ the place where Her wed to Quinlan. Once Her see the stone…Her will remember the night,” Zelda promised as she pushed the remainder of the biscuit closer to Taylor’s hand. “Her memories will be slow at the comin’ back. Her suffered greatly within the gateway. Her must be patient and try ta’ bring back the past life. Zelda will help Her find the way.”

  As Taylor reluctantly continued to nibble at a biscuit, she stared desolately into the drizzled remains of her bitter draught. Leaning her head against one hand, she tried to figure out what Zelda was talking about. With a pang of homesickness, she remembered the evening of the hypnosis session and the information that Mattie had shared with her about the mysterious Taelhar. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything about this place. If she’d lived here before, wouldn’t she know it? Wouldn’t it be more then these strange moments of recognition? Something more then the occasional passing deja`vu?

  As she idly picked at the biscuit, Taylor frowned at the crumbs scattered on the plate. Replaying the legend in her mind, she still couldn’t see how it could be true. Wait…hadn’t she and Quinlan been man and wife on earth…on the Isle of Lewis? Hadn’t the Druids sent Quinlan here as punishment for stealing their sacrifice? So, how was Zelda going to show Taylor the stone where she and Quinlan had repeated their vows? Shaking her head in confusion as she replaced the nibbled biscuit back on her plate, Taylor rose wearily from the table and staggered her way toward the bed. There must’ve been something in that tea to relax her…make her sleepy, she reasoned with a yawn. Struggling to crawl beneath the heavy fur blanket, Taylor felt her arms and legs growing heavier; it was a struggle straightening out in the bed.

  As she watched Zelda buzzing about the room, Taylor found herself drifting off to sleep. Struggling to keep her heavy eyelids open, she barely noticed Quinlan walking through the room, a knotted bag of belongings dejectedly slung across one shoulder. The last thing she remembered before her eyelids closed was the pain reflecting in Quinlan’s eyes. “Good,” she thought sleepily too herself. “At least I’m not the only one suffering.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  She awoke with a start, throwing back the blankets as she sat bolt upright in the bed. Heart hammering wildly, her face clammy and covered with perspiration, Taylor’s eyes darted around the room as she tried to gather her bearings. Rubbing her face with her hands, Taylor concentrated on forcing herself to slow her breathing.

  What a dream! Crawling out of bed, Taylor trembled her way across the room to fall weakly into the chair. Curling her shaking body into the comfortably carved out log, she leaned her forehead against the cool stone wall as she tried to remember the details of the dream.

  She remembered standing in some sort of mist, trying to see the landscape around her. The ground and surrounding area was so foggy, she couldn’t even see her feet. As she wandered through the blanket of fog, it swirled and curved about her body, sometimes seeming to form into faces…the faces of people she knew. She saw Mattie, laughing and talking with Magnus; their heads close together as though sharing some sort of secret. She saw Drake’s face as well, but something about his expression gave Taylor a cold feeling of uneasiness. She remembered that she continued moving through the fog, as though she was searching for something…or someone.

  Repositioning herself in the comfortable chair, Taylor pulled her feet up under her heavy shift, tucking the material tightly around them, as she hugged her knees to her chest. Closing her eyes, she continued searching her memory, trying to recall the rest of the dream. The longer she was awake, the dimmer the details were becoming and for some reason, she felt it very important that she remember. Her mother had taught her long ago to face her bad dreams as soon as she awakened. “If you face it,” Constance McKenna had advised. “Then it can never hurt you.”

  Her heart began beating faster, as she recalled falling into a darkened pit. Hugging herself tighter and drawing her feet even higher up into the chair, she remembered the awful sensation of clawing at the empty air, her hands finding nothing to stop her fall, her legs kicking wildly through the darkness. Then suddenly the fall was over and she was lying in someone’s arms. The arms were strong and well muscled. Taylor could hear the reassuring thump of a steady heart as she lay her head against the broad warm chest. The body had felt so familiar, so safe. Taylor remembered turning into the arms to press herself against the strong protective chest. She remembered molding her body against the man….feeling his need press hard against her thighs. She wriggled with her own aching need against his rising, pressing her tingling breasts tightly against his chest. Raising her face, she grew breathless as she waited for his mouth to descend upon her parted lips.

  She remembered Quinlan’s face, smiling…his eyes sparkling with passion as he lowered his mouth to hers, utterly possessing her soul as he claimed her with his tongue. Then he’d lifted her close into his arms and carried her into a room softly lit with dozens of candles. He’d gently laid her upon a bed of furs, staring into her eyes before his mouth urgently claimed her again. His trembling fingers fumbled with the laces of her bodice, anxious to loosen the ties….free the creamy breasts he longed to suckle…longed to caress and bury his face against. As he raised his head to attack the stubborn lace head on, Taylor remembered framing his face with her hands. “My husband,” she had whispered, smiling as she ran her fingers into his thick dark hair.

  “My wife,” he had smiled back, finally freeing her body from its encasements as he lowered his head to her breast. Unfortunately, it was at that exact point that she had decided to awaken.

  Jumping up from the chair, Taylor shook herself, pacing nervously back and forth across the room. Her face felt hot to the touch. Her heart still fluttering within her breast. Had she dreamt these things merely because she was physically attracted to this traitor of a man? Or were these memories from the far distant past, cropping up from somewhere deep within her subconscious? Whatever it was, she’d awakened disturbed and confused…frightened that she might actually be the person Quinlan and Zelda had once known.

  “It was just a dream,” she reasoned aloud, shaking her head against the notion of reincarnation. Everything was overwhelming her, this place…Quinlan…the strange Zelda. She had to find a way to sort everything out. If she could just find her way back to the gateway, find her way back to this side of the cairn. Maybe there would be some answers to her questions there, maybe even a way to get back home. If Quinlan had already lied to her once…who knows? Maybe he was lying about that too. Maybe he was just afraid to travel back to her time…afraid of a world vastly different then what he’d once known. Maybe she could piece this puzzle together…find a way to deal with this unearthly situation.

  The sight of the cloak hanging on a peg by the door spurred Taylor into making up her mind. E
xcitement rising in her breast, she swung her feet from the bed. She frantically searched around the room for something to put on her feet. Even though she was anxious to search this world for answers, common sense prevailed as she prepared to venture into the harsh weather she had seen through the window. “Freezing to death would probably be as unpleasant here as on earth,” she calmly reasoned to herself. Finally finding a pair of worn leather boots, Taylor plopped down on the bench beside the table and slid her feet into them. They were a bit on the larger side, definitely made for the foot of a man. She’d practically have to take two steps within the boots before she’d be able to even move the boot itself. Huffing in disgust, Taylor kicked off the boots, tossing them back into the corner.

  Her eyes falling upon the trunk where Zelda had gotten her shift, she quickly crossed the room and was soon kneeling beside it. Prying open the heavy lid, Taylor dove elbow deep into the trunk thoroughly rootling through the contents.

  With a cry of delight, she emerged with a small pair of boots, delicately sewn together with some sort of shimmering thread. Taylor marveled at the softness of the leather and the preciseness of the minute stitches.

  Immediately, she donned the warm pair of stockings conveniently tucked inside one of the boots, then smoothly slid her stockinged feet into the awaiting footwear, wiggling her toes in delight. Amazed at the perfect fit of the boots, Taylor quickly turned back to the trunk to see what else she could find. Continuing to dig through the storage chest like a child digging through a toybox, Taylor soon emerged with a heavy linen dress and a dark green woolen tunic that fit snugly over the gown. As she pulled on the dress and smoothed the tunic over top, she was once again surprised at just how well everything fit.