The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

she licked dry lips and swallowed hard, Simon drew in a long, deep breath to steady himself. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention to her over the last month? How had he not noticed those eyes? That mouth?
    To disguise the unexpected thoughts racing through his mind, Simon checked his watch one more time. “You should go put your wedding gown on. I’ll tell the minister we’ll be ready in five minutes.”
    She shook her head sadly. “You seriously have a clock fixation, don’t you?”
    “Just one of my many attributes.”
    “Or curses.”
    He smiled. He could afford to now. He’d turned a near disaster into a triumph. “Megan, you’ll be able to spend the next year learning my every quirk. But right now…”
    “Right. Get dressed. Get married.” She turned for the door, her heels clicking noisily against the tiles. When she reached the door, she grabbed the knob and looked back over her shoulder at him. “Sure hope you know what you’re getting us into.”
    Then she was gone and Simon could only tell himself that of course he knew what he was doing.
    He always knew.

Chapter Three
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    L ate-morning sunlight darted through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the great hall. The dark crimson silk draperies were open wide and the spotless window glass sparkled like diamonds in the light.
    Only a handful of guests were seated in the deeply cushioned white chairs staggered on both sides of a narrow aisle. At the head of that aisle, a minister stood, bible open on his palms. Beside him, Simon waited, tall and gorgeous, his gaze locked on Megan.
    As she moved slowly down the aisle, following her sister Paige, still wearing her pale-yellow blouse and simple black skirt, Megan had the opportunity to question her own sanity. She was wearing anotherwoman’s wedding dress, and though it was beautiful, it wasn’t one she’d have chosen for herself. Ivory lace covered her arms and chest, and the silk beneath if felt cool against her skin. The skirt of the dress was wide, brushing against the rungs of the chairs as she passed and the sound it made was like anxious whispers. She was about to marry another woman’s fiancé, in front of witnesses she didn’t know. And in about a week, she’d be sharing her bed with a man who would be both a stranger and her husband.
    Her head was spinning, so she stopped thinking.
    Paige, only a step or two ahead of her on the aisle, was the only member of Megan’s family present—not exactly how she’d imagined her wedding day, by any means. She could still hear Paige’s arguments and every one of them had been logical and rational.
    Yet none of them had been strong enough to dissuade her. If there was one thing Megan could admit about herself, it was that once her mind was made up, that decision was set in concrete. Besides, if she had a choice between Simon Pearce and Willie the Weird, she’d pick Simon anytime.
    Paige paused at the head of the aisle and Megan knew without actually having to see it that her younger sister was giving Simon a hurt-my-sister-and-die look. And she smiled to herself, grateful as always to know that Paige was on her side. No matter what.
    The former bride’s family and attendants had left.Simon had spoken to the minister and now everyone here—with the exception of the bride—was relaxed and ready. Heck, by pulling a few strings, Simon had even managed to procure an emergency marriage license. In his own way, Simon was every bit as powerful as Spencer Ashton.
    Megan shivered at the thought.
    Then she stepped up beside Simon, took a deep breath and felt his fingers close around her right hand. Warm, she thought. Warm and strong and somehow…comforting.
    The minister started talking and, truth to tell, she wasn’t listening. She was having what felt like an out-of-body experience. She couldn’t be sure of course, since it had never happened before, but what else could explain the light-headedness? The ringing in her ears? The blurry swim to her vision?
    “I do,” Simon said, his deep voice reverberating through the room before dancing along her spine, sending her nerve endings into a frantic skip.
    Oh, boy.
    Her turn.
    Megan focused her gaze on the minister and noted the beads of sweat on his forehead and idly wondered if he was as nervous as she was. He seemed nice enough. She’d spoken to him about last-minute details only an hour ago. Of course then, neither one of them had known she would be the bride.
    “I, Megan Ashton,” she