jackie ivie jackie ivie jackie ivie
jackie ivie jackie ivie jackie ivie
jackie ivie jackie ivie jackie ivie
jackie ivie jackie ivie jackie ivie

Top Pick - Romance Reader at Heart
"Ms. Ivie pens a magical tale laced with fiery passion and takes you on a journey of treachery, suspense and a love that is determined to conquer two people"s hearts."
-Billie Jo, Romance Junkies
(on The Knight Before Christmas)



by Jackie Ivie
ISBN-10: 142010165X
ISBN-13: 978-1420101652
Publisher: Zebra
Release date: October 7, 2008

Available now at:

Winner JABBIC Award (Judge a Book by Its Cover)
for best historical cover!

2nd Place - New England Bean Pot contest for best historical!

Finalist - Maggie Awards - best historical!

Finalist - Holt Medallion Award - best historical!

Scotland 1141. A Norman king's attempt to rule the Highland clans is making his favorite knight's job difficult, indeed--and this is before a woman of mystery lays siege to the warrior's heart...

She lives to heal..

He's a giant of a man; what's more, he's the enemy. These truths should be enough to send Aislynn running far and fast from the wounded stranger in the woods. But he needs her help--and the reward he bestows changes her forever...

He fights to the kill...

Formidable knight Rhoenne Guy de Ramhurst has been "gifted" with a fiefdom--and the unenviable task of taming the rebellious Highlanders that populate it. He also has a castle full of dissidents, led by his own half brother. Yet these challenges pale in comparision with attempts to forget the healer who saved his life and captured his heart...

And one love rules them both...

Rhoenne believes a family curse places any woman he loves in mortal danger. When Aislynn is abducted by his profligate sibling, Rhoenne becomes her protector--even as he tries to resist her. But Aislynn has secrets of her own--and as deception and danger swirl ever closer around them, the truth may be their only salvation...


Take off your armor."


Aislynn's eyes flared but she had it under control before he saw it. "Take off your chain. Now," she repeated.


"Take off this chainmail that you wear. And then we'll see to getting your shirt from you as well. I grow tired of speaking this."

"I'm not one of these serfs that you order about so easily."

"True. You are their lord. I am still telling you to take off your clothing, and do it a sight quicker than you are at present."

"Nay," he replied. And then he folded his arms. That movement flattened the broad flesh and muscle of his forearms against his belly, as well as made the blood find further paths to flow down. Aislynn watched as a wash of red colored the linked chains at his belly, slowly filling holes as it moved ever-downward.

"You have an injury. I would see to it."

"'Tis but a scratch," he replied.

"I am your healer. I canna' heal what I canna' see."

"And I still say nay."

"There are no observers to your pain," Aislynn pointed out.

He grimaced. "'Tis for that reason I keep all my clothing on my frame. And all of that drapery on yours."

Aislynn matched his expression. "You're impossible! You have pain and you won't allow me to see to it?"

"I have pain, true. But it is of such a nature, that you canna' be allowed to see to it. Or attend to it."

Aislynn took a step toward him. "You make nae sense."

He snorted, and then he responded with such a noticeable step backward, it was as if he were marching it.

"Men! You hide what I must see to do my work and then thwart me at every turn. Cease this and hand me that chain."

"You order others easily, I notice."

"When they require such. And it was by your own tongue it is so. Dinna' you grant me the power of your household?"

He nodded.

"Then hand me your chain. Now."

He shook his head.

"Must I fetch that Sir Montvale knight in order to make you?"

He tipped his head. Aislynn caught the slightest tilt to his mouth before it stopped. "Montvale would like that. He knows I'm too weak to give a full showing."

"What are you talking of now?"

"Montvale would take your offer. He would force me. He wouldn't win without much fight. I'm already depleted so he would win."

"All of which is words while you bleed! Give me your mail." Her voice was rising. She couldn't prevent it.

"'Tis but a scratch."

He was backing from her as he said it, and that put him toward the bed. Aislynn's mouth set.

"With you, my laird, a scratch could be death. I dinna' trust your word."

"What?" Now it was his turn to stare as his eyes widened a moment. Then he had the reaction covered over.

"I dinna' trust you."

"Men have died by my hand for less," he answered, and his teeth were set.

"I am nae man. Now hand over your mail. Now."

He'd reached the edge of his bed and had bumped away slightly with the collision as he got there. It wasn't due to her chasing him, although it probably looked at way. It was due to the speed with which he was backing from her. Aislynn held out her hand, wriggled her fingers, and waited.

Rhoenne looked at the floor. He looked at the wall to his right. He looked back at the floor again. Then it was the ceiling, then the window to his other side, then it was over her head. Aislynn watched it. There was the most interesting pinkish flush rising from the edge of his hauberk to stain his lower jaw, too. He couldn't hide it. He was luckless with the sparse way with which he grew a beard, she decided. A beard would have hidden things like a man's blush.

Then he was glaring at her, his nostrils were flaring with it, but he was unclasping his arms and reaching for the hood made of linked chain. The hauberk went into her outstretched hand, and Aislynn's nearly dropped it with the weight. She forced her arm to stay where it was but brought the other hand to help. He didn't move his eyes from hers as he lifted his injured arm, unclasping hooks from beneath it and showing more dark wetness on his side. She couldn't prevent the gasp as he yanked the chain forward and over his head.

The chain shirt fell the moment it went into her hands, and tore two of her fingernails as it did so. Both of them heard the links as it fell to the floor. It was impossible not to in the dead silence. It was only possible to hear her blood as it raced through her ears.

"Chain doesn't take well to such treatment," he said with a soft tone, unlike any he'd used thus far.

"I dinna' realize the weight of such armor. How is it possible to wear it as if it weighed naught?"

His mouth cocked into a half-smile with that. Aislynn had to clamp her teeth shut to keep from answering it.

"Because I am not a half-ling such as yourself."

Half-ling? She was glaring now. "Give me the tunic. Dinna' take such time over it, either. Now." She ignored the mound of bloodied mail at her feet, and stepped over it, placing her within arm-reach of him. The proximity was giving her trouble as a shiver raced her frame, centering right where she least wanted it - at each breast peak. He sensed it, too, if the increase in his breathing was any indication.

"This is not a good time...for this," he said.

"I'm your healer. You granted it."

"True," he replied. And then he crossed his arms again, only this time, the seepage of blood was quicker and darker and faster as it spread throughout the quilted cloth he was wearing. Aislynn watched it and set her jaw.

"Must I wait for you to faint of weakness again, a-fore I get you to obey me? Is that what it takes with you?"

"Obey?" He was as surprised to hear the word as he was to say it. It sounded in his voice. Aislynn couldn't stop the smile.

"Aye. Obey. You are to obey me. I'm your healer. I heal. If you dinna' obey me, you will na' heal. Simple. Now, cease this and give over the tunic."

Sunlight was piercing through the open window, sending beams to highlight him in slices of toned and tanned flesh. It was also glinting on the dark blood as it reached the bottom of his tunic and started dripping. Aislynn glanced there and her heart caught. Such a quantity was going to kill him!

"We haven't much time, my laird. You'll bleed to death! And na' allow me to heal it? Now, cease this and take the tunic from your body or I'll call for Montvale to help me slice it from you! Now!"

"You continually call me this title - this laird. This has a meaning?"

"Laird. My term for lord. Now give me the tunic. Now." She stepped closer, and he actually arched away from her, bowing himself backward over his bed. He wasn't flushing anymore, either. He was pale. And he was trembling, and he was shiny with a filming of sweat, or the sunlight was lying as it embraced what flesh he was allowing her to see.

"This is not happening. I cannot...will not allow it," he panted the words.

Aislynn was right behind him, leaning forward, although the movement placed her at his chest level.

"You procured my services. You."

He gulped. She actually heard it. Aislynn had to catch the smile. Then she was reaching out with a hand and pressing it against his belly, compelling him down onto the bed. That way, maybe she could get atop him and force him to let her see the extent of his injury. All that happened was her fingers started tingling.

Aislynn pressed harder, the roping of muscles against her fingertips hardened, the thighs she was pressing against did the same thing, and not much else. Then there was something else, and her eyes flew to his with concern as heat and pressure and size grew against the region just below her breasts.

"Now do you see why you mustn't touch me?" he asked, pushing the words through clenched teeth.

She nodded.

"Then step away."

"I'm...your healer, My Laird," she whispered.

"I know," he replied.

"And you're injured."

"'Tis but a scratch," he replied.

The mass against her ribcage twinged, startling her. Aislynn gasped and pulled away, lifting her hands and everything else from him. She backed. He was breathing hard, he was in an arch that was impossible to imagine if she hadn't seen it, and he was in an all-out sweat. He was also very red along the collar of his tunic and everywhere else she could see. And he was very desirous of intimacy with her. Very.

Aislynn put both hands to her cheeks to stop the amazement, shock, and the response her body was experiencing. Every part of her felt awake and alert and sensitive...and full of craving. She didn't even know what it was she craved. She just knew it was a vicious want, almost too deep to fight. She curled her hands into knots, digging her nails into her palms at the same time and wondered if it was the same for him. And he had an injury! She turned sideways to him and faced the window as if that aperture had answers.

"You should send the castle healer to me. I'll await him."

For a man suffering as she was, it didn't sound in his voice, she decided. "He sees to Somerset," she whispered. "By my orders."

"Then I'll wait."

"You wait and you'll die. You ken this."

He sighed heavily. "I keep telling you it's but a scratch. It's true. A scratch. Maybe less."

"Show me. Dinna' tell me. Show it."

Another heavy sigh. Then she heard the wood support of his bed creak. She still didn't look. It was all she could do to control her own body, preparing it to look. He was bound to have a gash, cleaving skin wide open, and she was feeling a sensation that had to be lust, or something close to it? What sickness was this? What demons have this much power?

There was a rustling. Aislynn closed her eyes tightly to it and tried to stop the sensation touching him had caused her. How much worse was it going to be when she had to touch bare flesh? She swallowed. She was the Lady of the Brook! She was confident. She had no interest in men. She wasn't interested in anything other than the furtherance of her experiments with herbs, spices, and mixtures. She didn't care about any man. Especially not this man. The lusts of the flesh were for her sister, Meghan, or other creatures too weak to fight it. Aislynn wasn't the same. She was different. She was--

He spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "There. Is this what you wished to see?"

She turned her head and the entire world shifted. The sunlight dappling the room carried too much warmth as her body broke out in a sweat to rival any of his. And her heart was lurching so heavily, she thought it might leap from her breast. Aislynn nearly put her hands there to halt it.

The Norman-bred laird was standing; he had a wadded, blood-filled piece of material clenched in his hands and held at his hip-line, hiding that portion of himself; he had sunlight caressing every fluid speck of flesh from the width of his shoulders, the roped texture of his arms...down to the wedge shape that led to his hips. And there was only a residue of dried blood on him.

"Lift your arm," she said.

He moved his right arm, lifting it above his head, his face twinging a bit with the effort, since there was severe bruising all along the side. That, and a long scratch. Nothing else. And it didn't break skin.

Aislynn crossed to him and reached out to see, before realizing her mistake. Her fingers weren't flesh and tissue and bone where they touched. They were sparks of sensation. She spread them wonderingly about his skin, shocking herself with the intensity of the tremor that ran her, and seemed to go from her right into him. She raised her eyes to his.

"It's a scratch," she whispered.


National Readers Choice Award

Winner JABBIC Award (Judge a Book by Its Cover) for best historical cover!

2nd Place - New England Bean Pot contest for best historical!

Finalist - Maggie Awards - best historical!

Finalist - Holt Medallion Award - best historical!

If I was to say I enjoyed A KNIGHT WELL SPENT by Jackie Ivie, it would be a colossal understatement. I loved this book! It is all I hoped it would be and more–much more. Set in Scotland in 1141, it tells a tale of love, betrayal and acceptance. The players in the love match are an unlikely trio—the woman whose powers save the knight, and the man who would have more than his half-brother's leavings, if only he could find a way to do that.

Filled with wonderful attention to historical detail and with dialogue that brings Scotland to life, this sweeping romance has something to offer every romance lover. Handsome, tortured knights, damsels in distress, castles and kingdoms and the battles that keep those kingdoms safe. Swords flash, tunics shorten, and brawn and muscle protect sensitive feminine charms. Through it all, though, the damsel Aislynn is the strength that can either hold the fiefdom together—or pull it apart.

As I said, I loved every moment of this story. The characters were wonderful and the story amazing. There are four other "knight" books by this author and I plan to add them to my reading list. Just by this one book I can tell Ms. Ivie is one storyteller whose stories I don't want to miss. If you're in the mood for kilted knights and a heroine whose tenacity is sure to stand the test of time, A KNIGHT WELL SPENT is right up your alley! - Kay James, RomanceReaderAtHeart.com


"With a strong sense of time and place, and plenty of historical details to anchor the story, A Knight Well Spent is an enjoyable read with unforgettable characters. It'll sweep you up and hold your attention from the first page to the last. A recommended read." - Cocktail Reviews
Read full review here.


"***** BUY THIS! I totally believe this to be the best book Jackie Ivie has ever written. All the characters, including the secondary ones, are well developed and the plot is solid, believable. I came to care for Old Rosie and Sir Harold very much, but what I came to feel for Aislynn and Rhoenne was deep. I seldom cry while reading, but I actually felt the anguish of Aislynn and Harold as they did what they thought best for Rhoenne and the people. And I could not stop tears from forming when Aislynn must face Rhoenne after he believes she betrayed him. Author Jackie Ivie writes scenes that will dance wildly upon readers' emotions. Unforgettable! *****" - Huntress Reviews
Read full review here.


"This is an engaging tale of love of honor and what people would do in the name of love. The character's had depth and flaws that made them very realistic. I personally liked the Earls most trusted Knight, Sir Harold Montvale. A Knight Well Spent is truly an enjoyable read." - Night Owl Romance
Read full review here.


A Knight Well Spent by Jackie Ivie is a heart pounding, mouth watering, finger licking fantastic read for all Historical Romance lovers. If you miss this one you have missed one of the Yummiest books of the century.

The author has given us such a delight that I would call this book a keeper. Lusty, action packed, intriguing, deceitful, heart wrenching and down right luscious, this book is right up in leagues with authors such as Hannah Howell, Jo Beverley and many of the other epic writers of the current era of the Historic Romance genre'.
- Reviewed by Terry Studer, Front Street Reviews.
Read full review here.


Author Jackie Ivie (see more BooksForABuck.com reviews of novels by Ivie) spins an emotional and exciting story set in the 12th century. Ivie's strong writing, with plenty of humor mixed with danger and emotion, kept me turning pages. Aislynn, with her magical healing powers and her occasional but important psychic abilities, makes a wonderful heroine while Rhoenne is a powerful, yet loving man. For me, the real hero of the story is Harold, Rhoenne's lieutenant--a man with a big mouth who can say what needs to be said, and make decisions for the greater good, no matter the cost to him. I certainly hope that Harold will get his own story in the future.

If you're looking for a sexy historical with just a hint of magic, you'll definitely want to grab A KNIGHT WELL SPENT. - BooksForABuck.com. Four Stars!

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