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It wasn’t until much later that I realized why.

The Bastille Day picnic the year I turned 19 was the first time Étienne noticed me. . .

It was late in the afternoon, the air baked and dry, the men lounging around by the tables drinking wine, while the young people our age had been chased out into the meadows beyond.

Étienne and the others were playing mumblety-peg, their knives flashing bright in the sunshine.

I was hanging back, trying not to make it so obvious that I was sneaking peeks at Étienne, that I wished he would notice me, instead of flirting with Faustine, his tanned hand looking breath-takingly delicious on her waist as he pulled her closer for a kiss.

But I never could have predicted how he did notice me, because the only warning we got was a rustling deep in the woods, and then suddenly, the animal burst through to the meadow.

It was some kind of rabid boar that must have been crashing through the trees for hours, its flanks slick with sweat and froth.

And everyone else was fast enough to flee.

Except me.

I had been wandering little further out, in a meadow knee-high with fragrant mayapple, checking for the first tart blackberries.

“Léonie!” my brother Réjean called. “Come away from there!”

But by then it was too late--the boar was between me and the path, pawing the ground, its eyes red-rimmed.

I whimpered, began to back up as the wild blackberries all spilled from my fingers.

“Don’t run,” a deep voice called, and I looked up to see Étienne, advancing on the path toward me, his movements tight and controlled.

And our eyes met for the first time.

He was beckoning me closer, telling me to walk toward the rabid boar.

It should have gone against every logical instinct in my body. Move toward the dangerous predator? Closer to trouble?

But I didn’t even stop to think, the boar tossing its hairy head back and forth, looking like it wanted to spear me with those tusks.

I instantly obeyed him.

One step. Then another, my eyes locked on Étienne’s. I couldn’t look away, my lips parted and my heart pounding.

Later I realized there was a knife in his hand, but at the time I didn’t even notice. I just did as he said.

The boar was snorting louder the closer I came, but I didn’t even notice that either.

It was like I was hypnotized. All this man had to do was crook that one tanned finger, and I would have followed him off a cliff.

The boar lowered his tusks and charged, but Étienne was faster, moving in a blur, and I was still walking forward, trusting in him, when the first splash of blood landed on my dress.

“Don’t look, Léonie,” he said, and I obediently squeezed my eyes tightly shut, lips tingling to taste my name in his mouth.

He knew my name.

His words went down like the sweetest, most fragrant juice. He had said them to me. He had looked at me.

Everything was different after that.

I waited breathlessly until he stood beside me, his fingers skimming my lower back.

“All you all right?”