Never Been Bitten Read Free

were to let. They could ill afford to turn down money, and it was just a simple ball. Ellie would stick to the shadows, as always, and hopefully return home overlooked but a few pounds richer. And life would go on as always.
    But she couldn’t stop the traitorous voice inside her head from whispering, Look at me; notice me as she stared at Mr. Macane’s devastatingly handsome form.
    Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. His focus was on his simpering dance partner.
    Chest tight with resentment and envy, Ellie shifted her gaze to the insipid debutante in his arms. Beautiful and probably brainless. I hope you fall.
    The girl’s legs collapsed beneath her.
    Ellie gasped in shock at the coincidence, unconsciously pressing her back against the uneven wall.
    Macane extended a graceful hand to the trembling girl at his feet, but his dark gaze focused over her head, as if he could see through the throng and through the shadows, to the young lady trying desperately to melt into the wainscoting.
    “You can’t see me. You can’t see me,” Ellie whispered, suddenly and unreasonably terrified.
    “He can,” Miss Breckenridge corrected her, her voice faint. “I fear you’ve been marked.”
    Ellie’s body fought to free itself from the wall, as if pulled toward him by a force more powerful than her self-control. At the same time, every sense, every pore, screamed danger. Her breathing faltered and her heartbeat sped until her only reality was herself . . . and him.
    The melody ended, and a new one began. Without breaking eye contact with Ellie, Macane handed the young girl off to her mother and strode forward, his step purposeful, his eyes determined. Despite the crowd, despite the music, despite her own breath rasping loudly in her ears, from across the ballroom she could clearly hear him speak his first word of the evening.
    “You.”
    And then he pounced.
    Without seeing him cross the dance floor, without any memory of peeling herself from the far wall, their shadows intertwined and those eerily beautiful green eyes were piercing her to her soul.
    “I—” Ellie faltered, unsure what she’d meant to say, or if there truly was anything to say.
    He frowned, which only served to unnerve her even more. “You’re not—”
    “I forgot to make introductions,” gasped Miss Breckenridge, at Ellie’s shoulder. “Of course. Mr. Macane, allow me the honor of presenting Miss Elspeth Ramsay. Miss Ramsay, this is Mr. Mártainn Macane.”
    Yes. Obviously. But all Ellie could do was stare up at him, mesmerized by the tiny crease between his brows, as if he were as puzzled as she was to find herself the object of his attention. Who had he thought she was? And would he leave, now that his hopes had been disappointed?
    Mr. Macane’s brow smoothed, and his chiseled features relaxed into a mask of perfect ennui. He inclined his head and favored her with a close-lipped smile.
    Miss Breckenridge would no doubt assume he did so to hide unsightly fangs. Ellie knew better. Close-lipped smiles were what one did when one was only pretending. Her mastery of the art enabled her to mask her own humiliation at not being worthy of a true smile. His unexpected interest had been nothing more than a case of mistaken identity. More than understandable, given the crowd and the distance they’d had between them. Now that the dancing shadows thrown by the glass chandeliers no longer masked her features, he could finally see her for who she really was: nobody.
    Never had she felt her lack of status so keenly.
    He gazed at her a moment longer than was proper, undoubtedly determining the best way to extricate himself from an undesirable situation. To Ellie’s surprise, he extended his hand. “Shall we?”
    She blinked at him until her addled brain deciphered his meaning, then she croaked, “Dance?”
    “Certainly.” The edge of his mouth lifted as if he found her amusing.
    Ellie was not amused. She was mortified. And determined not to let it