Fic: Rarely Resisted (Cara/Kahlan) NC17 (12/?)
Title: Rarely Resisted
Author: Dylan
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the situations, and I make zero money from this foolish endeavor.
Summary: Set around the time between 'Fury' and 'Resurrection', early in season 2 of Legend of The Seeker. Sometimes resistance is err...futile.
(Link to my website for when LJ is down -- http://www.femslashfanfiction.com )
Part Twelve
As the rain continues and the cold begins to bite at my skin after so many days of warmth and sunshine, I pluck at my leather, trying to lift it from me, wishing I could strip down to nothing in order to dry. Cara is tending to Garen, leaving Richard out with the horses, making sure they drink their fill after such a hard ride. Zedd is already cooking something over the fire, his robes still sopping wet as he refuses to use magic in Garen’s presence.
I shake my head, feeling my damp hair sticking to my neck. Lifting it up and squeezing I sigh and try to be thankful that we’re at least free from that prison cell. Holding my hands out to the fire to warm them I let my gaze linger on Cara as she cleans Garen’s wound, her fingers tender as she wipes away the blood. I can see from here that it will need stitches and I’m reminded of Cara’s cut over her brow. She also needs stitches if Zedd refuses to use his magic right now - there is a trickle of blood trailing down Cara’s temple. She seems unaware of it as she works on Garen, but I’ll soon have my way and clean Cara’s injury and tend to it properly.
No doubt Cara will bat my hands away but I will do my best to help her as she’s helped us so often. With my mind set on how I will fill the next candle mark at least I watch as Richard re-emerges from the rain outside our small cave. He shrugs out of his jacket, shaking the rain from it before moving towards me.
I smile as Richard’s eyes meet mine, his face soft and open, full of adoration. It’s not the kind of adoration of somebody confessed, but it’s close. He sits beside me on the cool floor, tugging at the laces of his sodden boots, slipping them off so he can remove his socks and lay them by the fire. I don’t mention that they could probably do with a wash first before he bothers drying them, choosing not to become the kind of woman that would nag about such trivial details. Certainly trivial considering our quest and the things we must do every day just to survive.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet,” Richard says as I lift a stick by the fire and give it a prod, enticing the flames higher. “Are you ok?”
I glance at him before turning back to the fire, and to the two Mord-Sith beyond.
“I’m fine,” I reply. “Glad to be out of that place.”
I hear the slight waver in my voice that’s unsure if I really am so glad to be here, rather than being stuck with Cara alone.
“I was worried,” Richard tells me, placing his hand on my arm. “If I could have gotten us out of there sooner . . .”
“I know,” I reassure, giving him a kind smile.
“Was it terrible being trapped with Cara?” he asks, a slight grin on his lips as he teases about the somewhat tentative nature of my new friendship with her.
My heart stumbles a little as I recall waking up with Cara so close to me this morning. How difficult it was not to act on what we want. It was terrible in its own way, but not how Richard would expect.
“No,” I answer, feeling my cheeks begin to flush.
“Did she behave?” he presses, either not noticing or not seeing the redness to my cheeks. Perhaps he thinks it’s the heat from the fire.
“Of course,” I say, forcing my hands not to tremble or my voice to give me away. I decide to steer the subject away from Cara. “How did they manage to capture you, anyway?” I question.
He had told me of Zedd’s little magic show in the market when we were shouting to each other from our cells, but I don’t know the details.
“Zedd was showing a little girl a quick magic trick because she was crying. He made a flower. Just a small flower,” Richard says. Zedd nods from his position to the left of us. “The next thing we know we’re surrounded. I thought it best not to argue. I hoped we could explain to whoever was in charge that Zedd didn’t mean any harm, but they refused to accept that, and then we were being locked away, unable to do anything. We could have fought but . . .”
“It seemed pointless at the time. Too many of them,” Zedd adds.
“That’s what we thought too,” I say, glancing over at Cara.
Cara’s head lifts, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment before she grabs her pack and rummages within it, pulling out a small package that I know contains the things she needs to suture closed a wound. She adds nothing to the conversation.
I feel a strange kind of tension emanating from her, but I’m unsure what it is. She seems very on edge even considering our situation and the fact we’re laying low to avoid being caught. I frown and turn my attention back to Richard as Cara heats the needle over the fire.
“Cara got hurt, though,” Richard points out, indicating the cut to Cara’s head.
“We made the mistake of pulling our weapons,” I explain. “They didn’t much like that.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help,” Richard says, lowering his eyes in shame as if his only duty is to protect me.
Of course, he has it all backwards. It’s my duty, my task to protect him, not the other way around. I decide not to point that out once again, not wishing to make him feel any more inadequate than he’s probably unnecessarily feeling already.
“We were all in the same bad situation,” I soothe, touching his arm lightly and finding his eyes with mine.
Offering him a smile I rise and move to my pack, picking it up and throwing it over my shoulder as I make the decision to at least attempt to freshen myself up after clinging to a horse in the rain.
“Where are you going?” Cara asks brusquely, holding a needle very close to Garen’s skin, poised to close the slash at her side.
From anybody else the abrupt question would seem rude, but this is Cara, and besides . . . I know that Cara cares for my well being, no matter how much she might wish to deny it.
“To wash,” I answer a little abruptly myself - just in case she thinks she can get away with treating me as an invalid in the way Richard sometimes does.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” she presses, still poised above Garen, who glares at me in irritation at the interruption.
“I don’t need a chaperone to wash,” I counter, unable to suppress a slight grin at Cara’s exasperated jaw-clench.
“Let her go and get eaten by bears,” Garen interrupts. “And give me that thing before you put more holes in me than I need.”
Garen grabs for the needle and thread in Cara’s hand.
“Bears?” I question, watching Cara move her hand away so Garen can’t finish tending to her wound herself.
“Yes, bears,” Garen responds, as if it explains everything.
“There are bears out there?” Richard asks before I can. At Garen’s shrug he stands and turns to me, pulling his boots back on so quickly he almost topples over. “I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t go alone.”
“You do not need to come with me,” I exclaim, although I have no interest in facing a bear on my own. “The stream is no more than a few paces away.”
“But there . . .”
“Richard,” I say, giving him my best stern look, “I’ll be fine.”
“No, somebody should keep watch,” Cara insists, though it’s more of a mumble as she looks from me to Garen and back again, her body tense as she decides whether to stand or stay where she is.
Then her gaze lands on Richard and I see the narrowing of her eyes as he pulls on his jacket and walks towards the cave entrance beside me. It’s obvious to me that she wishes to come herself, rather than Richard be so close to me while I remove clothing. It makes me smile despite the fact she seems to be choosing tending to Garen over watching me disrobe.
“There really is no need . . .” I try, but Richard is already back out in the rain, a grin on his face that causes Cara to roll her eyes.
I wait just a moment more, wondering if Cara will change her mind and insist she is better suited for the job as my guardian, but she makes no move to follow as she grumbles something under her breath and turns her attention back to Garen.
Feeling slighted, I sigh and grip my pack tighter, catching Zedd’s fascinated gaze as he watches me. I give him no further cause to allow the thoughts in his head to linger, hooking my arm through Richard’s and allowing him to escort me to the nearby stream.
I’m unsure where I stand with Cara, especially now that Garen is here with us - for who knows how long. Cara might want me to wait before I speak with Richard, or she may want me to refrain from speaking to him at all about my change of heart. I decide I won’t take this opportunity to talk to him, despite the fact we get rare chances to be alone like this.
He sits on a rock not far from the small stream, his body turned away from me as I undress a little way. I know he’ll probably steal the occasional peek, but I can’t blame him for that. I would do the same if it was Cara washing in the stream and I had been tasked with watching out for danger for her.
I take my time washing and rinsing out my clothes, making sure to keep myself covered as much as I can with the cloak I also brought along. The rain makes bathing difficult and cold, but after being trapped in a warm room with a very attractive Mord-Sith for days . . . this had to be done.
Glancing behind myself I see that Richard really is doing his best not to look. He’s fiddling with some wood and his hunting knife, paying much more attention to it than to me. If it were Cara sat there I would probably be unable to wash for the attention she was giving me. I shudder as I try not to imagine her here, beside me, stripping out of her leathers and cupping water over herself. Over me perhaps.
Groaning, I sit down on the rocky bank, holding the cloak around my shoulders and easing my feet into the shallow stream. I splash water up my bare legs and over the insides of my thighs, touching my skin softly with the very barest contact from my fingertips. For a brief moment I can almost imagine them to be Cara’s fingertips, daring to roam, to burn me with their yearning caress. I fail to suppress the sigh that breaks free as I wash quickly between my legs, thoughts full of Cara as I splash clean water over my dark curls.
“Are you ok, Kahlan?” Richard asks.
I quickly look over my shoulder. He’s facing my way, concern in his eyes. I raise an eyebrow and he swiftly turns his head, a slight blush to his cheeks.
“I’m fine, Richard,” I assure.
There was a time that this would have been awkward for different reasons. Now, I just wish I knew a way not to hurt him. I do love the way he makes me feel - warm, safe - but I don’t think that will ever truly be enough. There was passion once, before Cara joined us, before my body began to betray me. But I no longer look at Richard and see a lover. I see a friend, and a father of many happy children. Just perhaps not my own.
Finishing up and drying myself as best I can, I dress in my older travelling dress, pulling the softer material over my cool skin and covering myself with the cloak. My leather will need oiling after all this rain.
Draping my things over my arm I step beside Richard and watch for a moment as he carves something intricate into the piece of wood he has been running his knife over. Leaning down I place a soft kiss on the side of his head above his temple, lingering with my lips against his skin.
“I missed you,” I say honestly.
I did miss him. His smile, his kindness. His ability to stay positive no matter the circumstance.
“I missed you too,” Richard says, his smile wide and pleased. “I was a little worried that something . . . something was different.”
I allow him to put his arm around me as he stands, finding comfort in his tentative embrace, as if it’s a cool cloth to a feverish head.
“What do you mean?” I ask, worried that he knows something is wrong between us.
“You’ve just seemed a little . . . I dunno, distant lately.”
My body stiffens and I pull away just enough to look into his eyes.
“We need to concentrate on the quest, Richard,” I say softly, hoping he will understand. “You know that.”
“But is everything ok?” he presses, stopping us before we reach the cave and the others.
From where we’re stood I can see Cara still tending to Garen; wrapping bandages around her, her eyes full of concern. Once again it seems like they’re completely alone, lost in their own world, and I feel my stomach tighten.
“Everything’s fine,” I respond, the tremble to my voice hopefully slight enough for Richard not to have noticed it.
Giving his arm a squeeze before I move into the cave and out of the rain I also hope my smile is as genuine as I wish it to be.
I hate being like this with him, but I see no other way at the moment. I need to speak more with Cara, and ensure that what she wants is really more than just a night with me. Doubts are starting to creep into my mind again and I feel uneasy.
“Good,” he practically sighs, following me in.
As I put my things out to dry at the back of the cave I feel Cara’s eyes on me, burning into my back. Not knowing how I feel - upset or annoyed, or accepting - I do not look her way. I know it’s silly for me to be bothered that she’s showing so much concern for the other Mord-Sith, but there’s a dark part of me that wishes to embrace my jealousy. If I didn’t know about their history it probably wouldn’t be getting to me, but I do, and it is.
I must shake myself out of this mood. It isn’t fair of me to want Cara to feel, to have emotions and compassion, and then insist that those emotions are to be reserved only for me. I can not be that selfish. It goes against all my training.
The evening comes quickly, no sign of any guards, no bears, no distractions for me as I watch Cara watching Garen.
Garen is asleep, having had very little in the way of food. She’d lost a lot of blood and is still extremely pale; the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks standing out in stark contrast to her skin. Cara finally turns her attentions from her and swipes at the dried blood at her brow, looking at her fingers as if the blood on them is completely baffling to her. I wonder what it is in her mind right now that’s causing the play of emotions I can see flitting across her face. I wonder what she’s thinking.
Her gaze lifts to mine as I sit by the fire, huddled in a blanket with Richard snoozing on the ground beside me. Another wave of emotion passes through her green eyes and I fall into them completely. I give myself to her without a second thought.
The tension in Cara’s face relaxes just a little and I smile, feeling and allowing a warmth to flow through my chest that I no longer wish to be afraid of. She turns to Garen briefly, checking that she’s still asleep before she moves away from her. Reaching for her pack, Cara pulls out some items and places them on the ground. She shifts uneasily for a moment and I realise that rainwater must have dried against her skin and is making her leather rather tight and uncomfortable. I watch her closely. I want to close the distance between us and undress her, relieve her skin, let it breathe under my touch.
A gruff noise - the clearing of a throat - at the other side of the small cave shocks me from my brief fantasy and I glance over at Zedd as he pretends to be fascinated with whatever else he has found to eat from Garen’s packs. A quick flash of his eyes towards me ensures I know he noticed something, however, and that he felt the need to break the tension.
Worried that my desire for Cara must be apparent I blush and look away into the fire, avoiding bringing further attention to myself. I need to be more careful.
Vowing not to be so obvious I do my best to ignore Cara as she shifts around the cave, moving closer to me - though staying equally as close to Garen - as she places her bedding down and loosens her leathers a little. She pulls some strips of cotton into her lap and places a water skin beside her, sitting crossed legged as she busies herself silently.
Realising that she’s preparing to tend to the cut at her temple alone, I pause only briefly before offering assistance. My gaze travels to Zedd as he sits with a furrowed brow, then to Richard as he snores beside me. I can’t allow Cara to do this alone; to feel alone. She is far from alone.
“Let me,” I suggest softly, moving towards Cara’s bedroll before waiting for any opposition.
Resistance dies on her lips as I take the cloth from her hands and wet it, kneeling beside her. If Zedd wishes to see something other than friendship in this then that’s up to him - even if I weren’t feeling more than that for Cara I would still offer to tend to her wounds. I would still care. Determined not to allow my fears and my feelings to change how I would normally act, I ignore the frown on Cara’s forehead and take her face gently in my hands as I study her injury.
Her eyes meet mine briefly before she looks away. I’m thankful for that. Being so close to her I would be unable to focus if those green eyes were stripping me of my senses.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” I say.
My fingers drop from the softness of her skin, and I hold back the sigh that threatened to reveal just what touching her now does to me.
Taking my time, I clean her wound, thankful that she isn’t fussing or pulling away from me. I can sense that she seems tired, perhaps emotionally wrung out. This is an odd situation only made more difficult with the re-appearance of her ex-lover.
My eyes drift towards Garen as I prepare some thread, thoughts battling in my head, emotions in turmoil. I’m glad that that she helped us, and grateful, but I don’t know what is going to happen next. Maybe Cara will want Garen to stay with us, or she may even be tempted by Garen to go back to a temple, to reintegrate. It hurts in a way I can barely stand to think we could lose Cara. To think I could lose her.
“Don’t think so much,” Cara all but whispers.
I lift my gaze back to her.
“I’m just . . .”
“There is nothing to worry about,” Cara interrupts, her voice low so hopefully only I will hear.
Her eyes on mine feel like a warm embrace and I relax my shoulders and breathe a sigh. Surreptitiously she brushes her fingertips over my thigh, determined resolve sparkling in the green I’m lost within both easing my mind and making my heart thump with exhilaration.
I nod and remember to be aware that we’re not alone. My fingers fumble with the needle and thread I intend to use and a slight raising of Cara’s eyebrow makes me chuckle.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” I say as I take a breath and wait for my hands to still.
“You can’t hurt a Mord-Sith,” Cara quips, though she sounds less than certain and I know there is more to that than the obvious as I lift the needle.
Reading between the lines I fight the urge to place a soft kiss on Cara’s cheek and tell her that her heart would be safe with me. I can’t make that promise here, and I can’t make it yet.
I choose to remain silent.
It doesn’t take much to close the wound and Cara doesn’t wince once. I clean it again, going slowly as I take this opportunity to be so near to her, to have my fingers on her. Resting my hand at her neck for a moment as I dab away the last of the dried blood I notice that Cara’s eyes are drifting closed. I can feel the pulse at her throat, quickening as my fingertips move ever so slightly across her skin, caressing her. Her chest is rising and falling more rapidly than necessary and I realise I should pull away before something cracks. Before she snaps and pulls me to her to claim me.
Just this innocent contact is enough to make both of us tremble with want.
I find a reserve of propriety and lift my hands away from her, watching the disappointment quickly cross Cara’s now open eyes. She nods and thanks me with a mumble and I place the soiled cloth on a pile of others that will need washing. I notice my white dress amongst them and feel a sudden sense of freedom, thinking that it might possibly be spoiled for good.
The sensation shocks me and I almost stumble backwards, away from Cara, away from the unexpected desire to deny what I am, to run from the ties and the restraints that have been placed on me since birth. As much as I have cursed being a Confessor, hated some of the things I’m expected to do, I have never truly wanted to lose that part of myself . . . until now.
But there are no ‘if onlys’, no wishes that could be made, no ways of making this easier.
I’m the Mother Confessor. This is my duty. I will protect The Seeker and obey the teachings that brought me here. But I will also feel my heart being lost to this woman before me, who I should hate and despise.
I may have to learn to accept who and what I am once again. And it may take time; weeks, months, or even years of longing as I live my life by Richard’s side, or as Cara discovers new parts of her own heart as she cares for another - like Garen perhaps - but I know I cannot fool myself into believing I will ever be happy just to allow this to slip through my fingers.
It may not be soon, but I will find a way to be hers.
Part Thirteen
.
Author: Dylan
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC17 (overall)
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, only the situations, and I make zero money from this foolish endeavor.
Summary: Set around the time between 'Fury' and 'Resurrection', early in season 2 of Legend of The Seeker. Sometimes resistance is err...futile.
(Link to my website for when LJ is down -- http://www.femslashfanfiction.com )
Part Twelve
As the rain continues and the cold begins to bite at my skin after so many days of warmth and sunshine, I pluck at my leather, trying to lift it from me, wishing I could strip down to nothing in order to dry. Cara is tending to Garen, leaving Richard out with the horses, making sure they drink their fill after such a hard ride. Zedd is already cooking something over the fire, his robes still sopping wet as he refuses to use magic in Garen’s presence.
I shake my head, feeling my damp hair sticking to my neck. Lifting it up and squeezing I sigh and try to be thankful that we’re at least free from that prison cell. Holding my hands out to the fire to warm them I let my gaze linger on Cara as she cleans Garen’s wound, her fingers tender as she wipes away the blood. I can see from here that it will need stitches and I’m reminded of Cara’s cut over her brow. She also needs stitches if Zedd refuses to use his magic right now - there is a trickle of blood trailing down Cara’s temple. She seems unaware of it as she works on Garen, but I’ll soon have my way and clean Cara’s injury and tend to it properly.
No doubt Cara will bat my hands away but I will do my best to help her as she’s helped us so often. With my mind set on how I will fill the next candle mark at least I watch as Richard re-emerges from the rain outside our small cave. He shrugs out of his jacket, shaking the rain from it before moving towards me.
I smile as Richard’s eyes meet mine, his face soft and open, full of adoration. It’s not the kind of adoration of somebody confessed, but it’s close. He sits beside me on the cool floor, tugging at the laces of his sodden boots, slipping them off so he can remove his socks and lay them by the fire. I don’t mention that they could probably do with a wash first before he bothers drying them, choosing not to become the kind of woman that would nag about such trivial details. Certainly trivial considering our quest and the things we must do every day just to survive.
“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet,” Richard says as I lift a stick by the fire and give it a prod, enticing the flames higher. “Are you ok?”
I glance at him before turning back to the fire, and to the two Mord-Sith beyond.
“I’m fine,” I reply. “Glad to be out of that place.”
I hear the slight waver in my voice that’s unsure if I really am so glad to be here, rather than being stuck with Cara alone.
“I was worried,” Richard tells me, placing his hand on my arm. “If I could have gotten us out of there sooner . . .”
“I know,” I reassure, giving him a kind smile.
“Was it terrible being trapped with Cara?” he asks, a slight grin on his lips as he teases about the somewhat tentative nature of my new friendship with her.
My heart stumbles a little as I recall waking up with Cara so close to me this morning. How difficult it was not to act on what we want. It was terrible in its own way, but not how Richard would expect.
“No,” I answer, feeling my cheeks begin to flush.
“Did she behave?” he presses, either not noticing or not seeing the redness to my cheeks. Perhaps he thinks it’s the heat from the fire.
“Of course,” I say, forcing my hands not to tremble or my voice to give me away. I decide to steer the subject away from Cara. “How did they manage to capture you, anyway?” I question.
He had told me of Zedd’s little magic show in the market when we were shouting to each other from our cells, but I don’t know the details.
“Zedd was showing a little girl a quick magic trick because she was crying. He made a flower. Just a small flower,” Richard says. Zedd nods from his position to the left of us. “The next thing we know we’re surrounded. I thought it best not to argue. I hoped we could explain to whoever was in charge that Zedd didn’t mean any harm, but they refused to accept that, and then we were being locked away, unable to do anything. We could have fought but . . .”
“It seemed pointless at the time. Too many of them,” Zedd adds.
“That’s what we thought too,” I say, glancing over at Cara.
Cara’s head lifts, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment before she grabs her pack and rummages within it, pulling out a small package that I know contains the things she needs to suture closed a wound. She adds nothing to the conversation.
I feel a strange kind of tension emanating from her, but I’m unsure what it is. She seems very on edge even considering our situation and the fact we’re laying low to avoid being caught. I frown and turn my attention back to Richard as Cara heats the needle over the fire.
“Cara got hurt, though,” Richard points out, indicating the cut to Cara’s head.
“We made the mistake of pulling our weapons,” I explain. “They didn’t much like that.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help,” Richard says, lowering his eyes in shame as if his only duty is to protect me.
Of course, he has it all backwards. It’s my duty, my task to protect him, not the other way around. I decide not to point that out once again, not wishing to make him feel any more inadequate than he’s probably unnecessarily feeling already.
“We were all in the same bad situation,” I soothe, touching his arm lightly and finding his eyes with mine.
Offering him a smile I rise and move to my pack, picking it up and throwing it over my shoulder as I make the decision to at least attempt to freshen myself up after clinging to a horse in the rain.
“Where are you going?” Cara asks brusquely, holding a needle very close to Garen’s skin, poised to close the slash at her side.
From anybody else the abrupt question would seem rude, but this is Cara, and besides . . . I know that Cara cares for my well being, no matter how much she might wish to deny it.
“To wash,” I answer a little abruptly myself - just in case she thinks she can get away with treating me as an invalid in the way Richard sometimes does.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” she presses, still poised above Garen, who glares at me in irritation at the interruption.
“I don’t need a chaperone to wash,” I counter, unable to suppress a slight grin at Cara’s exasperated jaw-clench.
“Let her go and get eaten by bears,” Garen interrupts. “And give me that thing before you put more holes in me than I need.”
Garen grabs for the needle and thread in Cara’s hand.
“Bears?” I question, watching Cara move her hand away so Garen can’t finish tending to her wound herself.
“Yes, bears,” Garen responds, as if it explains everything.
“There are bears out there?” Richard asks before I can. At Garen’s shrug he stands and turns to me, pulling his boots back on so quickly he almost topples over. “I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t go alone.”
“You do not need to come with me,” I exclaim, although I have no interest in facing a bear on my own. “The stream is no more than a few paces away.”
“But there . . .”
“Richard,” I say, giving him my best stern look, “I’ll be fine.”
“No, somebody should keep watch,” Cara insists, though it’s more of a mumble as she looks from me to Garen and back again, her body tense as she decides whether to stand or stay where she is.
Then her gaze lands on Richard and I see the narrowing of her eyes as he pulls on his jacket and walks towards the cave entrance beside me. It’s obvious to me that she wishes to come herself, rather than Richard be so close to me while I remove clothing. It makes me smile despite the fact she seems to be choosing tending to Garen over watching me disrobe.
“There really is no need . . .” I try, but Richard is already back out in the rain, a grin on his face that causes Cara to roll her eyes.
I wait just a moment more, wondering if Cara will change her mind and insist she is better suited for the job as my guardian, but she makes no move to follow as she grumbles something under her breath and turns her attention back to Garen.
Feeling slighted, I sigh and grip my pack tighter, catching Zedd’s fascinated gaze as he watches me. I give him no further cause to allow the thoughts in his head to linger, hooking my arm through Richard’s and allowing him to escort me to the nearby stream.
I’m unsure where I stand with Cara, especially now that Garen is here with us - for who knows how long. Cara might want me to wait before I speak with Richard, or she may want me to refrain from speaking to him at all about my change of heart. I decide I won’t take this opportunity to talk to him, despite the fact we get rare chances to be alone like this.
He sits on a rock not far from the small stream, his body turned away from me as I undress a little way. I know he’ll probably steal the occasional peek, but I can’t blame him for that. I would do the same if it was Cara washing in the stream and I had been tasked with watching out for danger for her.
I take my time washing and rinsing out my clothes, making sure to keep myself covered as much as I can with the cloak I also brought along. The rain makes bathing difficult and cold, but after being trapped in a warm room with a very attractive Mord-Sith for days . . . this had to be done.
Glancing behind myself I see that Richard really is doing his best not to look. He’s fiddling with some wood and his hunting knife, paying much more attention to it than to me. If it were Cara sat there I would probably be unable to wash for the attention she was giving me. I shudder as I try not to imagine her here, beside me, stripping out of her leathers and cupping water over herself. Over me perhaps.
Groaning, I sit down on the rocky bank, holding the cloak around my shoulders and easing my feet into the shallow stream. I splash water up my bare legs and over the insides of my thighs, touching my skin softly with the very barest contact from my fingertips. For a brief moment I can almost imagine them to be Cara’s fingertips, daring to roam, to burn me with their yearning caress. I fail to suppress the sigh that breaks free as I wash quickly between my legs, thoughts full of Cara as I splash clean water over my dark curls.
“Are you ok, Kahlan?” Richard asks.
I quickly look over my shoulder. He’s facing my way, concern in his eyes. I raise an eyebrow and he swiftly turns his head, a slight blush to his cheeks.
“I’m fine, Richard,” I assure.
There was a time that this would have been awkward for different reasons. Now, I just wish I knew a way not to hurt him. I do love the way he makes me feel - warm, safe - but I don’t think that will ever truly be enough. There was passion once, before Cara joined us, before my body began to betray me. But I no longer look at Richard and see a lover. I see a friend, and a father of many happy children. Just perhaps not my own.
Finishing up and drying myself as best I can, I dress in my older travelling dress, pulling the softer material over my cool skin and covering myself with the cloak. My leather will need oiling after all this rain.
Draping my things over my arm I step beside Richard and watch for a moment as he carves something intricate into the piece of wood he has been running his knife over. Leaning down I place a soft kiss on the side of his head above his temple, lingering with my lips against his skin.
“I missed you,” I say honestly.
I did miss him. His smile, his kindness. His ability to stay positive no matter the circumstance.
“I missed you too,” Richard says, his smile wide and pleased. “I was a little worried that something . . . something was different.”
I allow him to put his arm around me as he stands, finding comfort in his tentative embrace, as if it’s a cool cloth to a feverish head.
“What do you mean?” I ask, worried that he knows something is wrong between us.
“You’ve just seemed a little . . . I dunno, distant lately.”
My body stiffens and I pull away just enough to look into his eyes.
“We need to concentrate on the quest, Richard,” I say softly, hoping he will understand. “You know that.”
“But is everything ok?” he presses, stopping us before we reach the cave and the others.
From where we’re stood I can see Cara still tending to Garen; wrapping bandages around her, her eyes full of concern. Once again it seems like they’re completely alone, lost in their own world, and I feel my stomach tighten.
“Everything’s fine,” I respond, the tremble to my voice hopefully slight enough for Richard not to have noticed it.
Giving his arm a squeeze before I move into the cave and out of the rain I also hope my smile is as genuine as I wish it to be.
I hate being like this with him, but I see no other way at the moment. I need to speak more with Cara, and ensure that what she wants is really more than just a night with me. Doubts are starting to creep into my mind again and I feel uneasy.
“Good,” he practically sighs, following me in.
As I put my things out to dry at the back of the cave I feel Cara’s eyes on me, burning into my back. Not knowing how I feel - upset or annoyed, or accepting - I do not look her way. I know it’s silly for me to be bothered that she’s showing so much concern for the other Mord-Sith, but there’s a dark part of me that wishes to embrace my jealousy. If I didn’t know about their history it probably wouldn’t be getting to me, but I do, and it is.
I must shake myself out of this mood. It isn’t fair of me to want Cara to feel, to have emotions and compassion, and then insist that those emotions are to be reserved only for me. I can not be that selfish. It goes against all my training.
The evening comes quickly, no sign of any guards, no bears, no distractions for me as I watch Cara watching Garen.
Garen is asleep, having had very little in the way of food. She’d lost a lot of blood and is still extremely pale; the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks standing out in stark contrast to her skin. Cara finally turns her attentions from her and swipes at the dried blood at her brow, looking at her fingers as if the blood on them is completely baffling to her. I wonder what it is in her mind right now that’s causing the play of emotions I can see flitting across her face. I wonder what she’s thinking.
Her gaze lifts to mine as I sit by the fire, huddled in a blanket with Richard snoozing on the ground beside me. Another wave of emotion passes through her green eyes and I fall into them completely. I give myself to her without a second thought.
The tension in Cara’s face relaxes just a little and I smile, feeling and allowing a warmth to flow through my chest that I no longer wish to be afraid of. She turns to Garen briefly, checking that she’s still asleep before she moves away from her. Reaching for her pack, Cara pulls out some items and places them on the ground. She shifts uneasily for a moment and I realise that rainwater must have dried against her skin and is making her leather rather tight and uncomfortable. I watch her closely. I want to close the distance between us and undress her, relieve her skin, let it breathe under my touch.
A gruff noise - the clearing of a throat - at the other side of the small cave shocks me from my brief fantasy and I glance over at Zedd as he pretends to be fascinated with whatever else he has found to eat from Garen’s packs. A quick flash of his eyes towards me ensures I know he noticed something, however, and that he felt the need to break the tension.
Worried that my desire for Cara must be apparent I blush and look away into the fire, avoiding bringing further attention to myself. I need to be more careful.
Vowing not to be so obvious I do my best to ignore Cara as she shifts around the cave, moving closer to me - though staying equally as close to Garen - as she places her bedding down and loosens her leathers a little. She pulls some strips of cotton into her lap and places a water skin beside her, sitting crossed legged as she busies herself silently.
Realising that she’s preparing to tend to the cut at her temple alone, I pause only briefly before offering assistance. My gaze travels to Zedd as he sits with a furrowed brow, then to Richard as he snores beside me. I can’t allow Cara to do this alone; to feel alone. She is far from alone.
“Let me,” I suggest softly, moving towards Cara’s bedroll before waiting for any opposition.
Resistance dies on her lips as I take the cloth from her hands and wet it, kneeling beside her. If Zedd wishes to see something other than friendship in this then that’s up to him - even if I weren’t feeling more than that for Cara I would still offer to tend to her wounds. I would still care. Determined not to allow my fears and my feelings to change how I would normally act, I ignore the frown on Cara’s forehead and take her face gently in my hands as I study her injury.
Her eyes meet mine briefly before she looks away. I’m thankful for that. Being so close to her I would be unable to focus if those green eyes were stripping me of my senses.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” I say.
My fingers drop from the softness of her skin, and I hold back the sigh that threatened to reveal just what touching her now does to me.
Taking my time, I clean her wound, thankful that she isn’t fussing or pulling away from me. I can sense that she seems tired, perhaps emotionally wrung out. This is an odd situation only made more difficult with the re-appearance of her ex-lover.
My eyes drift towards Garen as I prepare some thread, thoughts battling in my head, emotions in turmoil. I’m glad that that she helped us, and grateful, but I don’t know what is going to happen next. Maybe Cara will want Garen to stay with us, or she may even be tempted by Garen to go back to a temple, to reintegrate. It hurts in a way I can barely stand to think we could lose Cara. To think I could lose her.
“Don’t think so much,” Cara all but whispers.
I lift my gaze back to her.
“I’m just . . .”
“There is nothing to worry about,” Cara interrupts, her voice low so hopefully only I will hear.
Her eyes on mine feel like a warm embrace and I relax my shoulders and breathe a sigh. Surreptitiously she brushes her fingertips over my thigh, determined resolve sparkling in the green I’m lost within both easing my mind and making my heart thump with exhilaration.
I nod and remember to be aware that we’re not alone. My fingers fumble with the needle and thread I intend to use and a slight raising of Cara’s eyebrow makes me chuckle.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” I say as I take a breath and wait for my hands to still.
“You can’t hurt a Mord-Sith,” Cara quips, though she sounds less than certain and I know there is more to that than the obvious as I lift the needle.
Reading between the lines I fight the urge to place a soft kiss on Cara’s cheek and tell her that her heart would be safe with me. I can’t make that promise here, and I can’t make it yet.
I choose to remain silent.
It doesn’t take much to close the wound and Cara doesn’t wince once. I clean it again, going slowly as I take this opportunity to be so near to her, to have my fingers on her. Resting my hand at her neck for a moment as I dab away the last of the dried blood I notice that Cara’s eyes are drifting closed. I can feel the pulse at her throat, quickening as my fingertips move ever so slightly across her skin, caressing her. Her chest is rising and falling more rapidly than necessary and I realise I should pull away before something cracks. Before she snaps and pulls me to her to claim me.
Just this innocent contact is enough to make both of us tremble with want.
I find a reserve of propriety and lift my hands away from her, watching the disappointment quickly cross Cara’s now open eyes. She nods and thanks me with a mumble and I place the soiled cloth on a pile of others that will need washing. I notice my white dress amongst them and feel a sudden sense of freedom, thinking that it might possibly be spoiled for good.
The sensation shocks me and I almost stumble backwards, away from Cara, away from the unexpected desire to deny what I am, to run from the ties and the restraints that have been placed on me since birth. As much as I have cursed being a Confessor, hated some of the things I’m expected to do, I have never truly wanted to lose that part of myself . . . until now.
But there are no ‘if onlys’, no wishes that could be made, no ways of making this easier.
I’m the Mother Confessor. This is my duty. I will protect The Seeker and obey the teachings that brought me here. But I will also feel my heart being lost to this woman before me, who I should hate and despise.
I may have to learn to accept who and what I am once again. And it may take time; weeks, months, or even years of longing as I live my life by Richard’s side, or as Cara discovers new parts of her own heart as she cares for another - like Garen perhaps - but I know I cannot fool myself into believing I will ever be happy just to allow this to slip through my fingers.
It may not be soon, but I will find a way to be hers.
Part Thirteen
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