Free Cloak & Silence by Sherrilyn Kenyon

again?”
    The maitre d’ raked him with an even snottier sneer. “I am highly literate...in multiple languages. Your name is not here.”
    Maris went into his own round of military peerage snobbery. The one thing about his noble and warring family...no non aristo ever condescended to them.
    At least not if he wanted to keep his testicles attached to his body.
    “As am I. Perhaps it’s under one of my titles. Prince or Ambassador?”
    That took the bastard down a bit. “Um...no, Highness. I still don’t see you listed. Sorry.” This time, at least, there was a modicum of sincerity to that word.
    “Thank you.” Even though he felt extremely bitch-slapped, Maris gathered what little dignity he could and turned to leave.
    As he reached the door, someone touched his arm. He turned to find a tiny pregnant woman who barely reached the middle of his chest.
    “Are you Maris, my lord?”
    Still aware of the smug leering faces of those who’d seen his humiliation, he gave a curt nod.
    She let out an exasperated breath. “I knew it when I saw you! You look just like Ture described you. I am so sorry Bertram’s a dumb ass. Please, come with me. Ture’s asked and asked all night if you were here yet.”
    With those few words, she made him feel instantly better. “After you, madame.”
    She smiled and turned to lead him back into the restaurant.
    “Excuse me?” Bertram snapped as they started past his station. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    She glared at him with an artificial smile. “Hopefully to save your job and your stupid ass. Instead of giving me attitude, you should be saying, thank you.”
    Color suffused his cheeks.
    She reached past Bertram to show the handwritten note that was taped to this stand. Jerking it loose, she slapped it against his chest and left it to hang there. “Lord Maris is a personal friend of Ture’s, you moron. He’d have chewed your rump for dessert had I not come out of the restroom in time to catch sight of the man he told all of us to keep our eyes open for. Remember the meeting?”
    Paling considerably, he looked at the paper, then to Maris. “I am so incredibly sorry. I—I—I—”
    “Keep sputtering,” she said, “then find us when you finally have an intelligent thought again.” She turned back to Maris with a friendly, heartfelt smile. “Please, my lord, come with me.”
    Maris offered her his arm.
    She took it and led him into the restaurant and then to his complete confusion, through the double doors and into the commercial kitchen area. Really uncomfortable, he slowed down.
    Without a word, she pulled him toward a far corner in the rear where a table was set even nicer than the ones for their clientele. She pulled a padded chair out for him. “My name’s Anachelle. What can I get for you to drink, my lord?”
    So this was the woman Ture had taken in. As Ture had predicted, Maris understood now why Ture had been so kind to her. Something about her was very kind and sweet, and it wasn’t just because she’d gallantly saved his ego. “The dry house wine.”
    “Very good, my lord. I’ll be right back.”
    Still uncomfortable, Maris assumed his full aristocratic bearing as he noted the number of curious glances he received from the staff as they worked while Ture was nowhere to be seen.
    This was really awkward.
    Maybe he should have stayed at home....
    * * *
    T ure came to a complete standstill as he left the freezer and finally saw the one face he’d been dying to see for days now. He’d been jittery and nervous since the moment Maris had accepted his invitation.
    Now Maris was here...
    And he was even more handsome than he remembered.
    Ture swallowed hard as he admired the way Maris looked. Dressed in an expensive black suit that was a lot more conservative than the man wearing it, Maris was the same rigid military commander who’d rescued him. He bled total masculinity and ferocity. Confidence and elegance.
    The word sexy was an understatement when