Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 85

85.

Ibelin still seemed unsatisfied but didn't voice it. Watching her, his heart swelled—his fingers twitched, wanting to pull her close and stroke her head.

She checked the bathroom—the inn had running water, so the staff wouldn't need to carry heavy buckets.

"Now that we have lodging, we have time?"

She went to the window, her brown hair tousled by the breeze.

"Shall we watch the festival preparations?"

"Good idea!"

This was their last break before the capital—time to relax.

"First, let's wash and change!"

After days of roughing it, neither was spotless.

"Go ahead."

Kite let her go first. She hesitated, then gathered her things and entered.

Meanwhile, Alex found lodging and reported back.

"I borrowed an empty barn—there are sleeping bags and blankets, so sleeping won't be a problem. They'll provide water and simple meals—locals often rent out rooms during the festival for extra money."

He offered to post guards in shifts—but Kite refused.

"With me here?"

Arrogant, perhaps—but he had the skill to back it up.

"Take it easy."

Alex didn't refuse. Lucen would have objected, but he wasn't here—Alex just shrugged.

"Enjoy your time."

"You too."

After he left, the bathroom door opened—Ibelin, flushed from the warm water, peeked out. Dressed but with damp hair.

"Your turn."

She'd hurried out for his sake. He shook his head and sat her on the sofa, taking a towel to dry her hair.

"Who was it that nagged about drying properly?"

"Who indeed?"

Her innocent pretense made him frown—but he touched her gently, and her small head swayed as she laughed. It sounded lovely.

After drying her thoroughly, he entered the bathroom—soon came the sound of water. The walls were thinner than expected; she flushed, realizing he'd heard the same sounds from her.

"Ugh."

She rubbed her flushed face, but it wouldn't cool.

Kite didn't linger—he hadn't used the bath.

"Now."

He approached, dripping, and pressed a dry towel into her hand. She took it stiffly, realizing she was nervous.

"Fine—sit here."

She patted the sofa, but he sat on the floor before her!

Aagh!

She stifled a scream—why there? It was clean, but nobles didn't sit on the floor. She stared at his handsome head until he spoke.

"Are you going to dry my hair?"

"Yes—I am."

She gently patted his hair.

"Why are you sitting there?"

"If I sat on the sofa, you'd have to stand."

Her hand stopped—why did he have to be so adorable? She barely resisted the urge to hug his head. Her heart truly went where it wanted.

She dried his hair diligently.

"There—now sit here."

She patted the sofa; he rose and sat.

"Thanks."

He tilted his head—her face reddened again. She opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to say.

A knock came—the innkeeper.

"Where would you like to dine?"

"In the room."

Kite glanced at the menu and handed it to her.

"See anything you like?"

It was varied—she chose beef steak, roasted vegetables, and the village's specialty: apple salad and juice.

Their food arrived quickly. Kite ordered the same, twice the portion.

"The chef is good."

The steak was tender, the salad crisp—chopped apples with tangy dressing, all delicious.

"Right—the apple dishes are good. I'm looking forward to the festival."

"Me too."

After dinner, they went for a walk—both liked to move.

The staff recommended the back garden—spacious, natural, unlike the capital's neat arrangements.

A rabbit appeared.

"Rabbit?"

Her hand twitched.

"Such a cute rabbit."

His comment made her lower her hand. She saw rabbits differently—as excellent protein. Roast them, stew them, make jerky.

"I prefer eating them."

Kite seemed to read her mind—so she enthusiastically discussed rabbit dishes.

The talk turned to hunting, then to roasting boar. She saw him listening with a content smile.

A sudden impulse struck.

I want to hold his hand!

She'd been escorted before, but holding his hand felt shy.

She looked at the emerging stars and touched his fingertip—his large hand clasped hers. Feeling his warmth, she held back.

Just holding hands made the garden look different.

The evening walk was a success.

---

"Are you sure about the sofa?"

"Yes—it's a good bed. While I can still be a gentleman, go to bed."

He pushed her into the bedroom. No need to pretend now, she thought—then startled herself. Nothing had been formalized yet!

She shook her head and lay down, tossing for a while before sleeping.

So this is a dream.

A prophetic dream, like any other.

She looked around—familiar surroundings: Kite's mansion. Several carriages and a lively atmosphere.

She understood—she moved to follow a scurrying maid, but the scene shattered like broken glass.

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