Across from Sophie, Gerard also rested on the floor of the plane. The unrelenting din from the bomber’s engines prevented any sort of casual conversation, not that her partner seemed any more interested in speaking to her than he had earlier. In fact, he hadn’t said a word since they’d both stuffed themselves into their coveralls and helmets and securely strapped on their parachutes.

Sophie tried not to worry about his recalcitrance. She had to believe that, once they were on the ground, he would come to the realization that they were truly in this together. She didn’t need him to like her, but she needed him to trust her.

She turned her head and watched as a squadron crew member moved through the plane, expertly double-checking the parachute harnesses attached to each cylinder, the beam of his small torch bobbing up and down. He stopped by Sophie and crouched down.

“First jump?” He shouted to be heard above the engines.

The glow from the little torch illuminated an airman who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, with bright blue eyes that instantly reminded her of Piotr.

“Yes,” Sophie replied. “But not your first time at this, I take it.”

“This is my thirty-eighth visit to France. Over France, at least. You lot keep us busy.” He rapped on the fuselage fondly. “Never been to Paris though. Always wanted to go. Me mum went once and thought it was the most beautiful city she ever saw. She said Sacré-Coeur was like standing on the top of the world.”

“She was right,” Sophie told him.

“Not so beautiful now, I imagine, with all those feckin’ Nazi flags hanging everywhere.”

“Working on it,” Sophie said, smiling. It was impossible not to like him.

“Pilot reckons we’re about five minutes out.” He gestured to the cylinders. “Just remember, once the pilot verifies the ground signal and gives the all clear, we’ll drop the cargo first so it doesn’t land on top of you,” he said with an easy grin. “’Cause that would put a damper on things.”

His expression, coupled with the color of his eyes, so reminded her of Piotr that Sophie put a hand to her mouth and sucked in a harsh breath.

The airman’s grin faded. “Oi, you’ll be all right. Nothing to jumping.”

“It’s not that. You just…you just remind me of someone. My husband,” Sophie finished awkwardly.

The airman glanced across the fuselage to where Gerard lay silent and motionless.

“He’s not my husband. Just my…partner.”

“Ah. That makes more sense.” Another grin split his young face. “Lucky man, your husband. Maybe one day I’ll be so lucky to find a wife willing to jump out of a plane with me.”