Free City of Jasmine by Deanna Raybourn

did. In any event, he had a fast car and somehow I found myself on the road to Scotland, ready to marry a man I hadn’t even known six hours before.”
    To his credit, Halliday looked more amused than shocked. “It sounds terribly romantic.”
    “That’s very kind of you. I think it sounds mad.”
    Something shrewd stirred in his eyes. “The song you danced to the night you met Gabriel Starke. Wasn’t ‘Salut d’Amour’ by any chance?”
    He gave me a kindly smile and I returned it. “Got it in one.”
    “Ah. Pity, that. And here I thought I was sweeping you off your feet,” he told me with a rueful lift of his silky brows.
    I laughed. “Don’t give up so easily. Just because I’ve learned to keep my feet on the ground doesn’t mean I can’t be wooed.”
    “But you don’t really keep your feet on the ground, do you?” he countered smoothly. “You’re always dashing off in that aeroplane of yours. I must say, I’ve done a bit of flying myself, and it’s a devilish thing for a lady to try. You astonish me, Evie.”
    “But there’s nothing astonishing about it,” I protested. “It was the most logical thing in the world. I worked at a convalescent hospital during the war. I brought them tea and read their letters from home and played cards with them. They were pilots, most of them American and terribly young and so sweet it broke your heart just to see them all swathed in bandages and aching for a chance to get back into the action before it all went away. I adored them, but I could only read so many letters and play so many games of cards before I wanted to scream. So I made them teach me about flying instead. It gave them no end of a thrill to talk about it, you know, and they were terrifically good teachers.”
    Halliday smiled. “You liked them.”
    “Immensely. They were just boys, really. Like brothers to me.”
    He shook his head. “Surely not all of them. I imagine more than a few found themselves smitten with you.”
    I shrugged.
    “You surprise me. I would have thought the dash and romance of a pilot would have turned any girl’s head.”
    I grinned. “Well, there was the odd kiss or two, but nothing more. There was only one I almost lost my head over, but it would never have worked.”
    He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Aha! Intrigue at last. Was he a pilot?”
    “Yes. He was the one who took me up the first time.”
    “One of those daring Yanks, no doubt,” he said, pulling a face. I laughed.
    “Almost. He was Canadian by birth but brought up in Africa.”
    “Good God. Colonials,” he said with a shudder.
    “And Ryder was more rustic than most,” I told him. “He helped form the flying corps in British East Africa. He was shadowing the highest ranking ace in our flying corps when the fellow was shot down. Ryder came with him to Mistledown while he recuperated, but he was bored out of his mind. He amused himself by borrowing a pal’s Sopwith and getting me in the air.”
    “A direct and dashing way to a lady’s heart.”
    “True. I might have been smitten by any man who taught me to fly. But Ryder was something special.”
    Halliday’s voice was soft. “You were in love with him.”
    “No. Not even halfway. But I was grateful to him. He was the one who got me airborne, convinced me I could do it. He flew like a buccaneer and he taught me everything he could before he was sent back to Africa.”
    “Did you keep in touch with him?” Something like jealousy tinged Halliday’s voice, and I enjoyed that.
    “The occasional postcard. It’s all very polite and respectable,” I said with a prim mouth.
    Halliday leaned closer still. “It’s no business of mine, but I wonder if I should believe that.”
    “It’s the truth,” I assured him. “Ryder never laid a finger on me. Of course,” I said, slanting him a wicked smile, “I put considerably more than a finger on him, but that’s a different matter.”
    Halliday’s eyes widened and his mouth