by Liz Gavin
Aidan
Knight’s Edge Series
Liz Gavin
Illustrated by
HFH Book Services
Edited by
Leona Buchman
Elessar Books LLC
Aidan © copyright 2018 Liz Gavin
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Aidan (Knight’s Edge Book 3)
Synopsis
1. Aidan – 2001
2. Aidan - Christmas
3. Moira – 2012
4. Moira – 2012
5. Aidan - Summer – 2016
6. Aidan - Fall – 2016
7. Moira - Fall - 2016
8. Moira - Fall - 2016
9. Aidan - 2016
10. Moira - 2017
11. Aidan
12. Moira
13. Aidan
14. Moira
15. Aidan
16. Moira
Epilogue
I. Sneak Peek 1
Synopsis
Noah (Knight’s Edge Book #2)
Elessar Books Llc
About the Author
Also by Liz Gavin
Aidan (Knight’s Edge Book 3)
Synopsis
When temptation and danger collide,
hold on to love.
Between working and raising two kids, Moira Romano doesn’t have time for romance. Not even with a charming Irishman, ten years her junior.
So, she ignores the way Aidan makes her knees go weak.
She pretends not to notice the way her heart flutters when they lock eyes.
Aidan Gallagher has a plan. He wants to be a rock star, but he’s never planned to fall in love. Until Moira steals his heart. Now, he needs to prove her wrong and his love right.
All he needs is one chance.
One night of passion to show her they were meant to be.
But, Moira’s cheating ex-husband has left her with deep hidden scars.
Wanting to protect her heart, she must let go of Aidan’s love.
Only, Aidan decides he will never let go of her.
1
Aidan – 2001
Imposing stone castles and manicured gardens didn’t impress seven-year-old Aidan Gallagher. His hometown Dublin, steeped in History, boasted centuries-old buildings galore. From churches to fortresses to universities, rarely a day went by without Aidan spotting a steepled roof, a gilded gate, or a kaleidoscopic stained-glass window. He lived in a two-hundred-year-old house, went to school in a five-hundred-year-old institution, and worshiped in a nine-hundred-year-old church. Still, that early September evening at Slane Castle would be forever branded in his memory, and not only because of the majestic building overlooking impeccable green fields, but because of the event he attended that late summer night.
For the longest time, Aidan had begged his parents to take him to a rock concert. They didn’t think it was a safe place for kids. “Too crowded,” or “Too uncomfortable,” they would often reply. They lost that argument the day Aidan brought home from school three tickets to the VIP section of an upcoming concert.
Dumbfounded, his dad had stared at the rectangular pieces of paper for a while before eyeballing Aidan. “How did you come by these?”
“Eve gave them to me,” he had offered as an explanation, shrugged, and sat at his desk to start on homework.
“She goes to Aidan’s school,” his mom had informed his dad. “He overheard you the other day saying you missed the chance to buy tickets when they sold-out in the blink of an eye. I guess he figured her dad would be able to help with that, being the singer in the band and all.”
Aidan had hidden his embarrassment inside his notebook.
His ears had burned when his father squeezed him in a bone-breaking embrace and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, son.”
Rubbing his cheek on the long sleeve of his uniform, Aidan had begged, “Stop, Da.”
“I’ve got the right to embrace my only son when he does something so sweet. Guess mom and I will have to take you to this one with us.”
Aidan had quit the pretense, sprung from the chair, and wrapped himself around his dad’s ample torso before the man finished his sentence. “Thank you! Thank you!” he had squealed as he covered his dad with kisses.
Not surprisingly, on that first day of September, when the Gallaghers finished lunch, Aidan had been the first one out of the house, flying over the cobblestone-covered backyard toward the garage. The structure which once housed horses, now sheltered his father’s collection of cars, many of which were rare. After a near-fatal accident, Tim Gallagher had turned his back on Formula One racing and founded a chain of luxury car dealers which rapidly spread through Ireland and continental Europe. But cars had remained one of his passions.
Aidan climbed onto the backseat of the family car, a silver BMW X5, before Joan and Tim crossed the yard. “Eager, eh?” the retired economist turned romance writer taunted her son as she buckled up.
“Aren’t you?”
“Clearly not as much as you. Your father and I have seen them perform before.”
The one-hour drive north from Dalkey, along the bay, then inland until County Meath had been without incidents. Aidan’s anxiety had turned the trip into an endless journey, though. He had barely slept the previous night in anticipation of what laid ahead.
As his dad drove around the parking lot in search of a spot, Aidan glanced around trying to take in all that surrounded them. Once outside the car, as he followed his parents, he craned his neck and swirled not to miss a thing. Various white tents dotted the sprawling fields, scores of people roamed the grounds around the castle, while thousands filled the seats or stood in the general admission area.
The Gallaghers presented their tickets to staff members, who escorted them to the VIP section. Aidan soaked in the smells, the sounds, and the sights surrounding him. The entrance to the property with its imposing gray stone wall and black-and-gold iron gate should have made a big impression. If not, the square stone castle with its four turrets overlooking the open-air arena should have done it. For sure, watching Ireland’s national soccer team beat the Netherlands’ on the huge screens, along with thousands of other fanatic supporters, should have been memorable. However, what got etched in Aidan’s young brain was a red, heart-shaped catwalk encircling him like outstretched arms, and the unforgettable performance by four local musicians who had conquered the rock-and-roll world and returned home to celebrate it.
Above all else, his jaw had dropped as his eyes got stuck on the coolest man he had ever seen. Amid the energetic cheering from the crowd, while the lead singer sweat away in his black leather jacket, and Aidan’s guitar hero jumped up and down on the left hand of the stage, and the drummer banged the cymbals away in the martial beat of the band’s most famous anthem, its bassist kept his cool. He barely broke a sweat in a royal-blue long sleeves T-shirt
and red-and-black stained pants. The man seemed untouched by the frenzy around him, on and off stage, while having the time of his life. There was a certain aura about him, a mystery that instigated Aidan’s imagination. The guy didn’t frown. He didn’t wear a bored expression. On the contrary, through the well-designed chaos of light and loud sounds that made the rock concert, a Monalisa-style smile played on his lips. An out-of-this-world blue light reflecting off his red instrument, while he plucked away his bass guitar. Aidan couldn’t take his eyes off the bassist and his bass.
He had no idea how many people had attended the concert. It felt like millions, and it felt like none other than him. The ramp around him created a comfortable illusion of intimacy, nobody crowded him, and his small height didn’t interfere with his fun. But the familiar songs and hypnotic performance certainly contributed to him shutting out the world and forgetting he was sharing those moments with thousands of other people.
After the encore, when the band left the stage for the last time and the multicolor lights returned slowly to their regular white, Aidan’s heart beat faster than the blond drummer’s sticks on the round leather surfaces of his drum set.
Aidan was hooked.
“Did you like it?” his mom inquired, tousling his dark-brown hair, as they waited for part of the crowd to exit, before following in the same direction.
He nodded, unable to use words to describe his emotions.
One thing had become crystal clear, and he communicated that to his parents. “I’ll be a rock star when I grow old.”
2
Aidan - Christmas
He didn’t believe Santa Claus brought him gifts, not after that Christmas Eve three years ago when he had walked in on his dad placing boxes wrapped in bright red and gold paper under their tree. That didn’t mean Christmas mornings had lost their magic. When he pressed his nose to the cold glass pane in his bedroom window, Aidan squealed and dashed to the heavy wooden door. Swinging it open, he ran down the carpeted corridor, ignoring the oil paintings, and barely avoiding knocking down a couple of potted plants on their high stone pedestals.
“White Christmas! We’ve got snow!”
“What’s this raucous all about?” Aidan darted past his dad, swerving to escape his outstretched hands. “Hey, don’t I get a Merry Christmas hug?”
“Busy! Later!”
Skipping every other step, Aidan conquered the two-story worth of stairs, and was out of the door, in seconds.
“Don’t forget your jacket.” His mom’s words made him turn tail and reach inside the coat closet, before rushing outside again.
He didn’t bother with a hat, the heavy windbreaker had a wool lined hood, and he chose not to wear gloves because he wanted to feel the snow melting on his palms. There wasn’t enough of it to make a snowman, so he went for the next best thing. Snowballs. Tons of them. And if he knew his parents well, he would need all the ammunition he could gather before they caught up with him.
Aidan kept a watchful eye on the front door as to avoid being caught by surprise by his mom and dad. Last time they had snow, Tim and Joan buried the boy in the frozen white powder before he could throw his first ball. A dry creak on the snow behind him gave his parents away. They must have gone out through the backyard door and around the house. Aidan spun around to face them, but didn’t duck fast enough. The burgundy on the breast of his coat got covered in white spots, when a snowball thrown by his mom hit him. The white turned into dark stains as the snow melted fast.
Screeching, he returned fire and hurled his snowballs in the general direction of his parents. If only he could see past the white curtain of flakes raining down on him, a result of Tim and Joan’s coordinated attacks. His dad’s guffaws, and his mom’s snorts helped Aidan aim his shots, but he had no idea how effective they were.
His high-pitched shriek rang through their front lawn and garden, when his dad shoved a handful of snow down his back, the tiny rivers of icy water raised goosebumps on his skin all the way to his butt.
Aidan surrendered.
“Truce!” Raising his hands, out of breath, he knelt on the snow, giggling. “Please, no more. I don’t want to spend Christmas in bed with a fever and cold.”
His mom’s laughter mirrored his. “Tim, I’m glad someone does the adulting thing in this family.”
“Yep, and it’s not us.” His father plopped himself on the ground beside Aidan, laced hands nestling his head, his eyes piercing the clouds.
Aidan followed his dad’s lead and lay down to watch the sky. His mom flanked him on the other side. After a brief, silent contemplation, her chest rumbled, but she didn’t share the joke with them.
His father caved in first. “What?”
“I’m glad our nearest neighbor lives over half-a-mile away. If not, they would be calling the cops on us right about now for assaulting our child.”
“That is so true.” His dad turned his head to watch Aidan, who pretended the clouds held mesmerizing secrets, and kept staring at them.
His dad braced himself on an arm and kissed his cheek. His mom followed suit kissing his opposite cheek and, before he knew it, he was snowed under tons of love and affection. “Stop, stop.” He half giggled, half begged. “You guys are ruining my tough act.”
“Sorry. I can’t help it. Too much cuteness,” his mom retorted, as she proceeded to tickle him.
Aidan was doomed.
He wiggled his way out of his parents gripping hands and tickling fingers, to escape to the safety of their home. He was shaking the snow off his coat, when his parents joined him.
“If you two go ahead and change into dry clothes, I’ll get a nice, warm breakfast ready when you come down again. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” Aidan and his mom replied.
Aidan’s small family took their time consuming their Christmas breakfast, stuffed with soft soda bread, fresh scrambled eggs, a board of mouth-watering cheese, and fragrant smoked salmon. The delicious food distracted Aidan from craving the boxes stacked under the living-room Christmas tree. Once the meal was over, he helped his mom put the dirty dishes in the sink for the housekeeper to take care of in the following day. Then, the allure of the paper wrapped volumes returned to his mind with full force.
“Could we do the presents now?”
“Sure, why not? I was planning to wait until lunch, but go ahead.” His father had to shout the second sentence to be heard.
Aidan had already crossed the intimate dining-room, the entrance hall, and was kneeling by the tree. He waited until his parents joined him, so they would distribute the packages. His grandparents on his mom’s side had passed away before he was born. She had only one sister, who had married an American and moved to Wyoming. They rarely flew over for the holidays. His paternal grandparents, uncles and aunts would join them after lunch, but their gifts had preceded them, surrounding Aidan with multiple sets of building blocks and a couple of pogo sticks. However, the present that lit up his eyes was a robot dog his Uncle Jerry had bought for him.
“Your brother took the hints,” Joan told Tim, as Aidan tore at the wrapping paper.
“Well, Aidan mentioned the dog every ten minutes every time Jerry visited us.”
Aidan shrugged. “He messed up last year. I wanted to make sure he got it right this time.”
The previous year, Uncle Jerry had bought him a plush dog, thinking it was the toy all the kids were talking about. Granted, the names were similar, but the plush dog didn’t bark songs or stand on its legs.
Busy making the tiny plastic dog sniff his bone, Aidan didn’t notice his dad leave the room. In fact, his mom had to tap his shoulder to get his attention and point it to his dad. When Aidan turned his head, he found Tim standing by the door.
“This is our Christmas present for you, son.”
The tall square volume didn’t give away the kind of gift it contained. But, whatever it was, Aidan knew his dad would have nailed it. He abandoned the other presents and hugged his dad. “Thank you
.”
“You might want to open it first.” Tim winked.
“You always get it right.”
“I married your mom, didn’t I?” He kissed the top of Joan’s head, as she snuggled against his chest and they watched Aidan rip the red and green paper to shreds.
Aidan’s heart thudding against his ribcage cut off air form his lungs when a black faux leather case, framed by heavy-duty metal, peered at him amid the ruins of Christmas-themed wrapping papers. His stare cut to his dad’s, who nodded in response to Aidan’s silent questioning.
That couldn’t be it. Right?
Snapping the latch open, Aidan confirmed his father was his hero. A bass guitar was nestled inside the case in a soft bed of black plushy fabric. He wanted to spring on his parents and hug them tight to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, but his hands grew a will of their own and wouldn’t stop caressing the shiny baby-blue and white surface and the long rosewood neck with its four taut strings.
He eventually closed the traveling case and tried to hug both his parents, but his arms didn’t reach all the way around their waists. Tim and Joan sandwiched him between their bodies instead. “Thank you. This is the best present ever. You’re the best.”
“Right back at you, son.”
Later in the day, when his extended family distracted his parents with their fun-filled yearly competition of charades, Aidan grabbed the bass guitar case and snuck upstairs to his bedroom. He hoisted the case onto his bed, opened it, and reverently plucked the guitar out of its snug bed. He didn’t know the first thing about playing that instrument, but he wanted to practice.