It's hard to write when Nat King Cole is singing because my characters keep wanting to jump up and ask each other to dance around an ordinary setting when they've only just met.

Chapter 2: Charming

When I arrive at the castle I slip directly into the kitchen. Mama is at the counter vigorously pounding at a lump of dough that will eventually be transformed into a beautiful braid of puffy bread dappled with butter and spices. Her specialty. There are already half a dozen finished loaves sliced and ready to be served. I place the basket away from her masterpiece of a mess and watch her for a moment.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yep."

"Oh, good. I had heard that tomatoes were a little scarce this year or simply useless."

"I managed."

"We really need to extend our garden. Your papa is grouching about the costs."

"It wasn't much."

"It adds up."

"Come, on, Tabby! Those men are calling out for food!" a voice sang out.

I look up as Christine skips into the kitchen. Her long dark curls are flying out of her braid and she dashes them away. She is adorable.

"They aren't men," I say, "They're boys."

"You'll change your mind when you see the new recruits," grins Christine and she emits an excited giggle.

"The recruits are here? I thought they weren't coming til tomorrow."

"They came early!" declares Christine and does a spin, then trips a bit with a laugh. "Oh, I'm so excited! Even you'd agree they are pretty handsome and mature, Mama."

"I will do no such thing," retorts Mama. "After all, I'm married to your father and he outdoes them all. You know they're just a bunch of noisy boys who consume nearly more than I can make. Oh, hot sauce! Take that pot off the stove, will you, Tabby? It's boiling over!"

I smile and dash to rescue the soup. I serve it up into bowls and Christine piles the bowls, bread, and butter on platters to carry out. Once Mama has the cooking under control she serves up some more and I take a couple platters out. Thankfully the door has no handle and I can nudge it open with my hip. When Christine does it, it's attractive and womanly. I always feel like a stick barreling against a board. It's funny thinking about it.

Christine was right. There are about a dozen new faces that crowd about the same table. Christine is at the end smiling and seeming to try to look at everyone at once with her bright quick eyes. One of them shows his teeth in a broad smile and she blushes. I shake my head and head straight to where David and Oliver are sitting. Oliver is staring at the new table, but I can tell he's actually watching Christine. Everyone knows he's crazy about her, including Christine, though she doesn't take it seriously.

"What's this grub?" asks David.

"I thought you'd be eating your wife's cooking," I tell him as I slide a bowl over to him.

"She visiting her parents down in the village so I figured I could risk Lady May's concoctions."

"You better not let her hear you," I say with a smile. "You know she's considered the best cook in the land."

David shrugs as he plops his bread into his soup. "It's a good enough substitute for Bessie's miracles, I guess."

I glance over at Oliver who is still staring as he slowly stirs his soup. I can tell what he is thinking, so I say, "What do you think of the new recruits, Oliver?"

He grunts and moves his focus to his food. He stuffs a spoonful into his mouth and mumbles, "Bunth f rith dadies."

"Translation, please," laughs David and thumps Oliver on the back.

"He thinks they're a bunch of rich dandies," I clarify. Serving in the mess room of soldiers had taught me exactly what males are saying when they are busying their mouths with food. Oliver nods and stuffs more food in.

I glance over at the table. Yes, they are wearing nicer outfits, but many recruits arrive in their finery before lowering their standards for the army. First impressions are always important. However, it appears they are nicer than usual. These are sons of noblemen. What had prompted them to join the army? Second sons perhaps? Or adventure? No doubt they thought they could win fame and honor by entering battle. I wonder if they know they will mostly be learning how to pick up their feet and bundle an efficient trail pack. Papa starts everyone, even the officers, with the bare basics. I gather up my empty platters and head for the kitchen.

By the time Christine and I have served all the men (about eighty), it is time to reload the bowls and take them in for seconds or meet the demands of specific requests. Only soup, this time! More bread! Salter is empty! We have only one other maid who assists us, so the boys keep us running around. Christine takes care of the new recruits mostly, but at one point she is busy and one of them catches my apron before I hurry into the kitchen with a batch of dirty dishes.

"Is there more bread?"

"There's always more bread," I reply. "How much do you want?"

"Another round for this table. It's amazing."

Of course it is. It's Mama's.

Mama is just cutting up a steaming loaf when I swish in. Her face is flushing from the exertion and heat of the kitchen, but her dark eyes are shining. She loves this, the rush and demand for her to prepare food always thrills her. She is in her element.

"Are they close to finishing?" she asks irritably, even though I know she never fears of a lack of food. There are always leftovers when Mama cooks for the soldiers.

I nod. "Half of them have already left. And a half again are just talking and draining the wine bottles."

She nods and I take away the loaf of bread. As I set the bread down and pause to watch the hands reach for slices, I take a moment to see how accurate Christine's glowing description is. Yes, they are all very attractive, solid from plenty of rich food, yet brawny from exercise. One of the men is leaned back in his chair with his green hat cocked carelessly on his gold curls. He catches my sweeping gaze and grins with amazing charm.

"So, another lovely server. Where's the other one? Tina, was it?"

"Christine," I reply. "She's my younger sister." I know I say this last part a bit protectively. I always do.

He laughs. "You two look nothing alike; how can you be sisters?"

"Well, we have the same mother and same father, so we are sisters. That's how it works."

"I thought General Beric and Lady May were Evifians. Or looked like them, anyway."

"They do."

"You don't."

"Are you questioning my mother's honor, sir?"

He actually lost his composure as he stuttered, "No…just…"

"Do you want me to whip out a pedigree chart like the one you have for your prize horse?" I suddenly laugh as his face continues to look stricken at my intimidating tone. "That's just how I am, soldier. I'm the salt in a bunch of pepper." That's how Mama put it. "And you, you look like you come from good stock. Who are you?"

He returns to his charm. "I'm Edmund."

"Edmund? That's it? No title? Not even a last name?"

Now it's his turn to laugh. "You didn't strike me as the kind who cared."

"I'm not. I'm the kind who's curious."

He grins and I can't help but notice how white his straight teeth are. He has a nice smile. OK, he has a very attractive smile. "Very well, I will appease your insatiable curiosity. I am the eldest son of Duke Trent Veranes. My father thinks I am an irresponsible brat who is spoiled and can't do anything for himself. So, once I become a good officer under the hand of your father, then he will bestow the whole of his inheritance upon me. Satisfied?"

"For now."

He chuckled again. "Then it's your turn."

"I'm Tabby. I hang around the soldiers and make fun of how they fail or succeed and ensure they never go hungry. My parents insist I spend my time in studying and getting smart, but I'd rather not. I ride horses and I never want to leave this estate."

"Never? You aren't much for travelling and adventure then?"

"I've travelled around before. Nowhere is near as exciting as right here."

"What do you study?"

I am startled by the new voice but don't show it as I turn to the young man who addressed me. He has a smooth, high-cheekboned face and is very well dressed. He is staring at me with bright blue eyes and for a moment I forget the question.

"Stuff," I say stupidly with a shrug. The men listening laugh, including Edmund.

The young man looks only briefly annoyed before smiling as well. "I suppose that equates to your learning being so comprehensive it is difficult to pinpoint a particular subject?"

"Basically. I'm a history admirer and I do brush up on politics so I can comprehend when my Papa speaks."

Laughter again. Apparently Papa's trait of being obsessed with politics is already well known to the newcomers. I grinned openly now, catching Edmund's eye as his appreciation and yes, admiration, shines through. I notice that his eyes are an intense emerald. I've never seen anything quite like it before. Maybe his hat is emphasizing it a bit. Thankfully, my observation of the man's eyes is cut short when Christine appears at my side, a large jug of mild wine on her hip.

"So, I see you've found my charming sister," she grins and I immediately notice that she is talking to everyone, but her eyes are on Edmund. I should have guessed. She always goes for the top.

"That is something you two share," replies Edmund cheerily. "I don't think you got your charm from your father, though."

Another round of laughter. Christine joins in. I only smile thinly. Only I and my siblings can truly poke jibes at my Papa, and it nearly offends me that this tenderfoot would take such a liberty. Just nearly.

"He has no use for it in the army and his undisciplined green sticks," I point out when the din dims down. "I dare say none of you shall be so charismatic after a few months here. Your lady friends will be quite disappointed when you return rough around the edges."

Edmund's sparkling eyes turn directly to me. But it is his blue eyed, well dressed companion who speaks first, "Is that so, Lady Tabby? Is that why all the other men in this mess hall have a perpetual bored look upon their faces? How unfortunate for them."

"Sir Liam speaks truth," comments Edmund his eyes never leaving mine. "However, I promise that a few months from now I shall be just as charming as I am now, perhaps even more so." His eyes shoot around the table like a farmer throwing seed. "Who's with me?"

Sir Liam is the first to accept the challenge, as well as a couple of the other men who think they aren't males if they don't accept a challenge. The others say they don't care. I can't stop from grinning. Men—they are either eager to preen their own feathers or don't give a whit. I notice that one young man has been listening intently the whole time but never says a word.

"Who's to be the judge," asks Christine. "When such a trait is so based on opinion?"

"True," I admit. "Christine here would declare a tree stump charming if she were in a laughing mood."

"Would not!" She tries to sound indignant, but I know better.

"Then you, Lady Tabby, must act as the judge. After all you set the challenge. Say, five months' time?" Edmund is all confidence.

"You'll regret saying that," I grin. "Three months' time."

He laughs his bright laugh that matches his eyes. "Very well. I agree. Lady Christine, would you kindly ensure that we do not miss the date?"

"Gladly. I shall place it on my calendar as the day Tabby is proved wrong." She is grinning at me and I roll my eyes with a shake of my head.

"So, then," says Sir Liam. "The bargain is set. What shall be the prize?"

"Prize?" I repeat. "Ha. I give no prize to my Papa's men."

"No exceptions?" wonders Sir Liam now his eyes are on me in a very intense way that I can't help but wonder about.

I shake my head and grin wider. "I haven't found any reason to make an exception."

"She speaks truth," affirmed Christine. "It'd be easier to squeeze milk from a horse than a compliment from Tabby." She is smiling her sweet smile as she shifts her weight. She chooses this moment to set the jar of wine on the table and naturally all eyes focus on her.

"So, then," says Sir Liam again. "Logically speaking as her opposite you would be one to bestow benefits?"

"Oh, well," Christine is flustered. Well, she acts flustered, but I know better. "I don't know…"

"It's set!" declares Edmund cutting her off with a dashing grin, which I'm sure causes her to blush with delight. "You shall also be responsible for presenting those who win with a prize. I can't think of anywhere else to place this trust, other than your capable… lovely hands."

Christine laugh lightly. I rolled my eyes. He is certainly the charmer. "It isn't much of a duty, since there shan't be any prize to give out in three months' time," I tell him, my eyes taking in Sir Liam as well. They both smile with confidence. I notice the quiet young man is smiling as well, but it is more of amusement and agreement. He is not looking at anyone, but is studying his cup.

"We shall see, Lady Tabby," replies Sir Liam. "Three months time in your presence would naturally make anyone want to brush up on their charm."

"Probably because they begin to doubt their own ability," I reply with a smirk. "And quit calling me "lady." You're only allowed to use that term if you catch me in a silk dress." I nearly skip away before anyone can reply and head to the kitchen. There are mounds of dishes to do and Mama shan't like doing them on her own.

It isn't long before Oliver comes in to help. During his first year he was so unruly and disobedient that Papa made him do dishes duty. He actually ended up liking it and pretty soon became a regular even though he was often the ideal soldier. Today he slinks around me where I stand with soapy water up to my elbows, and begins to dry the already clean pile. He says nothing. I realize he is still thinking about the new recruits and probably did not appreciate my being so friendly with them.

"They aren't that bad, Oliver," I tell him.

"Of course they aren't," he replies sourly and shortly.

I flick a bit of soap onto his arm. "Don't be a pout. You act like this every time a batch bound for leadership comes in. Christine flirts with everyone."

"It isn't Christine."

"Then what?"

"It's you."

I arch a brow in surprise and give him a look that demands he continue with a proper explanation.

"You're nice to them all, but this batch. You seemed…different."

"How," it is more of a challenge than a question.

"You…stared more. It seemed there was more feeling behind those comments. It was just…different." Before I can retort he adds, "David noticed too, so I'm not just spewing smoke here." He pauses. "I think you're starting to be attracted to men, Tabby." He suddenly grins his silly Oliver grin. "I guess it's just unnerving to see my sister attracted to something other than a horse."

"I'm not attracted!" I squawk. "You two are just paranoid." To prove my disgust I plant a sudsy palm into the side of his face.

He laughs and jumps away with his drying rag, which he raises in a position as though to whip me. He never does, but it's still a sign for war. He seals his fate when he declares, "Tell me, Lady Tabby, which of those gorgeous dandies shall catch you in a silk dress?"

I fling a handful of soapy water at him. He steps back quickly but still gets splattered with it. He continues to dodge my arsenals and suddenly he moves in. I try to duck, but with his rag he wraps it swiftly around my mouth and chin. With one hand I try to claw the damp cloth away from my laughing mouth and with the other I pick up a cup full of dishwater and dump it directly on his head and face.

He squawks and jumps back, releasing his hold.

"Tabby! Oliver!"

Our heads snap to the right. Mama is standing in the doorway where she returned from setting out food for us. She is glaring, but I can see her lips are twitching.

Oliver stands to attention and points a finger at me. "She started it."

"He deserved it," I assure her.

Her smile breaks through. She can never get mad at Oliver because she thinks he's as cute as a cupcake. "Go eat, Tabby, before it gets cold. Oliver, I think there's an ocean you need to clean up in here. I don't want to be swimming in my own kitchen."

As I pass Mama, Oliver bats his eyelashes at me with his silly Oliver grin. I stick my tongue out at him.

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