The medieval historian told herself he was partof a practical joke, but with his wide gold belt,callused hands, and the rabbit roasting inher fireplace, the brawny stranger seemed so . . . authentic.

Suddenly Meredith was mesmerized by hisbronzed, muscular form, and her bodysurrendered to the fantasy that Geirolf Ericssonreally was a Viking from a thousand years ago,sent only to pleasure her. But as she tried toteach him to eat spaghetti and use a computer,she realized he knew an awful lot about thetenth century—and so little about this one.And as he helped her fulfill her grandfather'sdream of re-creating a Viking ship,he awakened her to dreams of her own.Until she wondered if the hand of fate hadthrust her into the loving arms of . . . The Last Viking