THIRTEEN
During the two days' ride to Sanglier, Melitta scarcely uttered a word. Countless times, George had opened his mouth to comment on the weather, or ask her about herself, but he hadn't been able to make his tongue cooperate. He'd never met a girl who could incapacitate him so.
The one time he'd managed to hold a conversation with her, he'd told her about the Sanglier boar. He'd expected her to be afraid – Lord knew he was! – but she'd been as calm as still water as she described the best way to kill a boar.
With a spear. George didn't own a spear, and despite her admission that she had never fought with one, at least she'd seen one and knew what to do with it.
On reflection, he probably shouldn't have told her killing the beast would be up to her. Yet she'd sounded so knowle
