Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 51

51.

They hadn't even completed half of today's schedule, and she was already tired. After lunch, there was still shopping—she didn't know how she'd endure. Ibelin forced herself to ignore Kite's gaze and focused on the food brought to the room.

Light finger foods started the meal, followed by a stew of young lamb and vegetables—the tender meat melted in her mouth.

A rare grilled fish dish came as the main course, and dessert was generous. Still, the meal was shorter than at the palace—a relief.

"Are you full, Lord Kite? Should I order more?"

"No—you can't always have everything you want."

With that, Kite finished his dessert and rose.

Ibelin accepted his escort and left the room—feeling lingering gazes from guests. Though not outright staring, it was still noticeable.

The plan to show off Kite's fiancée seemed a great success. Could they go home now? She looked at him—he looked pleased, despite the duel.

"Shall we head to the shopping district next?"

It was on the schedule.

"Yes."

If he wanted to, she had no choice. Ibelin obediently followed him out.

The shopping district was a short walk away. Most shops had clear glass fronts displaying attractive wares.

"Lovely."

She breathed in admiration—delicate lace, colorful candies and pastries, beautiful accessories glittered behind the glass. Her hometown had such streets too, but the capital's were more lavish.

"Anything you'd like to see?"

She shook her head.

"Not really."

It was nice to look at, but she didn't need more—the dresses he'd given her were enough. His residence already served delicious desserts with every meal. Buying jewels? What would she do with them? She didn't consider the things he'd given her as hers—she'd leave them all when she left.

"If I had to choose—a bookstore."

So she chose a bookstore—not the grand ones on the main street, but a secondhand shop tucked away. This was perfect—the content was the same, so why pay more?

Ding.

The bell rang, but the elderly owner only nodded. His eyesight seemed poor—he couldn't see who'd entered.

Good. Kite was showing his face freely, which could be troublesome—no normal person would smile at seeing him.

She browsed slowly. The store had various sections—she was most interested in weapons and hunting books. The history of guns, methods of hunting game...

As she flipped through a book, Kite tapped her shoulder.

"Yes?"

She turned—and he showed her a red-covered book.

"Thought you might like this."

She read the title: "Madame Ebony's Beloved Steed."

"Is that about horses?"

He opened it—a book with illustrations. She realized its nature at once: one of those so-called adult books she'd accidentally bought before.

Thump!

She struck his back.

"Ack!"

She hit him again—the half-asleep owner startled awake, then nodded in understanding.

"Love quarrels should be kept moderate."

Then he closed his eyes and dozed off again.

"This isn't a love quarrel!"

She shouted, but the old man only hummed and chuckled.

"What? You like those books."

"No!"

"But you bought a whole pile and showed them to me."

"I didn't know what they were!"

She hissed her protest.

"Put it back—now!"

Kite shrugged and set it down. Then he looked over her shoulder at her selections.

"Hmm—so this is your taste?"

Ibelin slowly exhaled, calming her anger, and shelved the book. Staying any longer—Kite might do something else. Better to walk outside.

"We're leaving!"

She pushed his back—and he let himself be pushed.

Ding.

The bell rang again, and the drowsy owner's voice followed.

"Come again."

Outside, Ibelin strode ahead. Plans be damned—she couldn't stay with him! A grown man playing such pranks!

But she couldn't escape him.

"Oh—my fiancée seems to like running."

That fiancée—fiancée!

"Stop calling me that."

"Angry?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

A lie. But what was the point of proving she was angry?

"Hmm—then I should soothe my fiancée's mood. Ibelin."

This time, she didn't answer.

"Do you like alcohol?"

Alcohol? Her grandfather had occasionally offered her fruit wine—low alcohol, tasty, but she didn't drink much. Too much clouded the mind and weakened control—her grandfather had always been that way.

"I know a good place—let's go."

He grabbed her hand.

He's just taking my hand now! Even as a fiancée, this wasn't proper—yet oddly, she didn't feel resistance. Her anger seemed to ease.

"Let's go!"

She followed him reluctantly.

Past the shopping district, into an alley, deeper still—a run-down tavern.

[The Wind Rests Here]

For a back-alley tavern, a rather elegant name—though the sign hung from a rusty chain, creaking.

"Here."

She looked at the sign, then at Kite.

"This is a good place?"

"Yes—shall we go in?"

"Doesn't our attire seem unsuitable?"

"It's fine."

He said casually, but she wasn't reassured. Clearly dressed as nobles—would they cause trouble for the patrons?

As she hesitated, Kite kicked the door open.

BANG!

The noise silenced the drinkers—a rough-looking man holding a wooden tankard looked at Kite.

THUD!

He slammed his tankard down. Ibelin's hand went to her thigh—couldn't he go anywhere quietly?

Just as she reached for her weapon, the man shouted.

"Hey—boss!"

Laughing heartily, he rushed to embrace Kite—who sidestepped.

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