Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (92)

The silver-haired woman finishes her tale of Fingal’s Cave before launching right into another story, The Nine Maidens of Dundee.

Camila is transfixed through the entire tale. But I barely hear three words. I’m too fixed on her. Watching her expressions ebb and flow is the most entertainment I’ve had in a long time.

It’s exactly what I needed after the day I’ve had.

Once the silver-haired woman is done with her second story, she announces a small break before the next storyteller. The crowd doesn’t disperse. Instead, a friendly babble rises up over us. The atmosphere of the ceilidh is infectious, and I find myself smiling easily.

“Can we go talk to her?” Cami asks me.

“The old woman? Sure. Lead the way.”

I help her to her feet and she immediately dashes over to snare the storyteller before she can get away.

“Hi,” Cami says eagerly, as though she’s approaching a celebrity. “Your story was beautiful.”

“Oh, it’s not my story, lass. These are the stories of Scotland.”

“Of course. You just told it so well.”

“I’m glad you thought so. Is this your first time at this event?”

I stand back a little, content to observe Camila. But I notice a few other women passing by who throw me curious glances. Some come cluster up behind the old women to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“Oh, yes. My, uh… Isaak brought me.”

“Isaak?” the woman asks, looking right at me. “He’s the fine coinneach at your side there, is he?”

Camila glances back over her shoulder. “Um, yes.”

“Good evening, ladies,” I say, moving forward.

I’m met with appreciative glances, though they cool when I wrap my arm over Camila’s shoulder. “I thought my wife would enjoy the Scottish experience.” She tenses instantly, but I maintain my grip on her shoulder.

“What a lucky girl you are.”

“Indeed,” chimes in another of the old women. “If we were thirty years younger, you’d have lots of competition on your hands, little lass.”

Camila lets out a burst of nervous laughter. I decide to be gracious and save her.

“If you’ll excuse us, ladies. We’re going to explore.”

They wave us off. I steer Camila away from the crowds and towards the large tuft of trees in the distance. She looks back over her shoulder only once, but she doesn’t protest as we leave the ceilidh behind.

We meander through a dense thicket of trees and end up in a little clearing that provides us with a brilliant view of the sky. Far from the lights of the fire, the stars shine more fiercely.

We can still hear the music, still see glimpses of the dancing fires, but it’s far enough away that it doesn’t intrude on the peace of the little clearing.

“Wow,” Camila says, her face turned up to the starlight. “This is amazing.”

She pirouettes slowly on the spot, her arms raised slightly to either side. I stand back and watch her, admiring the way her blonde hair turns dark and her green eyes catch the reflection of the stars.

She brings her face back down, and her eyes land on me.

“Isaak.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you… for bringing me here.”

I smile. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

She nods. “It’s exactly the kind of thing I appreciate. What made you think of it?”

“Actually, Lachlan brought me here years ago. We brought beer and sat around listening to the stories. It was a strange night, but I remember it as a good one.”

Her eyes grow soft, and she moves towards me. “It must be hard being here without him.”

“It was easier than I imagined it would be,” I admit.

She reaches out and takes my hand. I’m not expecting the gesture. She’s always protective about her space around me. But there’s a hunger in her eyes tonight, probably ignited by some old highland magic.

“You introduced me as your wife a few minutes ago,” she says. But she doesn’t look angry about it.

I shrug. “It’s an easier story to tell.”

“Is that why you do it?” she asks. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a sneaky tease in her tone.

“Why else would I do it?”

“Because you like the sound of it. You like the possessiveness of the word. You like thinking you own me.”

My cock jumps to full attention immediately. Then again, it only had a little ways to go. I give her a smile. “That could be it.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s playful. “I’m not yours, you know,” she reminds me. “Only I have the power to give myself away like that.”

She’s edging closer to me. I stay where I am and let her come. When there’s an inch of space between us, my hand finds her hip.

“I know. But I’ll take what I want in the meantime.”

I pull her hips against mine, and her eyes spark with desire at once. Her dress is soft and ethereal and it feels like it’ll melt in my hands if I hold on too long.

I wait, because I know she’s going to kiss me. I can see the promise in her eyes and I want to give her the freedom to do it in her own time.

The anticipation builds, but it’s worth the wait when her soft lips press against mine. It’s feather-light but fervent. Her hands wrap around my neck, and I pull her into my embrace.