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February,” she whispered. “February of 1811.”
    His face was harsh, like a stone battered by the sea. “You lie to me, woman.” His hands tightened over her shoulders. “Do not believe I am a fool.”
    A liar, was she? This had gone too far.
    Juliana shoved him back with all of her strength. “Why would I lie to you? I hardly know you at all. You saved my life, and I have offered my gratitude for that. But since then, you’ve done nothing but order me around.” Her own anger surged, for she didn’t deserve his fury. “You can believe whatever you wish, but I’ve spoken the truth.”
    She turned her back on him and began walking home. The man was impossible, clearly angry and half-potted. But a moment later, she heard his footsteps behind her.
    “Wait.”
    She didn’t know what it was that made her stop, but she heard the note of fear in his voice. “What is it?” Still, she remained with her back to him.
    “You said…it is the year 1811?”
    “Yes.”
    “You are certain of this?”
    She did turn around then. “My son was born in September of 1805. Of course I am certain.”
    Thorgrim’s face whitened, but he held his ground. “Then I am cursed, it seems. For I was supposed to die a thousand years ago.”
    “There’s no such thing as a curse.” Although his clothing did resemble a Viking’s, she refused to believe that a man could cross through time. Such a thing was impossible.
    Just as it was impossible for a boat to pull her out to sea without anyone commanding it. Or to drift miles from shore within a matter of minutes.
    A chill settled inside her veins, for she could see that he believed it.
    “But there is a curse, Juliana of Arthur. And now, I must learn how to break it.”

    The young woman standing before him had doubt in her eyes. She didn’t at all believe that a thousand years had passed. But Arik knew. Somehow, he’d known, from the first moment sunlight had illuminated her clothing, that she was not of his world—or of his time. Juliana was unlike the other women he’d met. Perhaps she was a blooded descendant of Svala, meant to haunt him in death. Or perhaps the mischievous god Loki had rewoven time, bringing them together.
    He let her walk away while he sat back upon the stone to think. Somehow, he believed that Juliana was the key to unlocking his journey to immortality. His death had not brought him to Valhalla; instead, it had brought him to her.
    He couldn’t understand what he was meant to do. Her home was fine enough, though it needed repairs. It would be easy to provide her with food and protection. But any man could give her the same. As beautiful as she was, it would not be difficult for her to find a guardian. He remembered her soft body and the way it had curved into him, welcoming him with warmth and passion. Beneath her cool dignity lay a woman of intensity who had given him a night he’d not soon forget.
    Arik stood up and continued down the path, intending to bring home fish to feed them. It did not appear that Juliana had stored enough to survive the rest of the winter. He walked down the narrow pathway toward the sea and saw her standing upon the sand, staring out at the gray water. Unhappiness cloaked her demeanor, the lines of worry creasing her face. She watched her son emerge from the house, and he laughed as he ran along the shore. Harry was chased by the older woman, who began scolding him. Juliana watched the pair, and the worry in her eyes was evident. She did love the boy. There was a gentleness there, her eyes softening while she watched him.
    He continued walking until he reached her side. “If you have nets, I will go and bring back fish for your family this night.”
    She nodded. “My father has some nets.” She told him where to find them, but then added, “But it isn’t necessary. I have bread and some vegetables. We’ll be fine.”
    He saw that she was still looking at her son. “Something troubles you about your boy. Is there a threat I