As she staggered to a halt on the other side of the altar, her hair slid over her face in a billow of waves that obscured her vision. Before she could even shove it out of her way, he was there. Alistair slid each individual curl away from her face, smoothing her hair back on her head and taking his time to make sure every strand was in place. His half smile bloomed into a full grin, and he plucked a twig from her hair. He held it up to the sun, his thin fingers spinning it in the golden light. “How do you always show up with these in your hair?”
