Epilogue

T HE D UKE AND Duchess of Ithwick, the Duke and Duchess of Ashbey, and the Duke of Hurtheven trudged in an uneven line toward a mountain at the very center of Hurtheven's extensive grounds.

Hurtheven, of course, led their party of five.

And, though they were miles from any navigable water and even further from the sea, Hurtheven carried an oar.

Cheverley smiled as Alicia tucked her arm beneath Ashbey's. Ash subtly tilted towards his wife.

Ash and Alicia were happy.

Truly happy.

And—Cheverley threaded his fingers through Penelope's hand—so were he and his duchess.

He stretched out his injured arm as they walked. Occasionally his phantom fingers fisted. But not today.

"Tell me why we have to plant an oar again?" Ash asked Hurtheven.

"Because Cheverley is Poseidon," Alicia answered.

Hurtheven glanced over his shoulder and scowled.

"Hardly a secret society, Ash, if you tell your wife all about it."

Ashbey shrugged. "No secrets."

"No secrets," Chev echoed.

Hurtheven made a sound of disgust. "If that's what marriage means, Lord spare me a woman's love."

"I think he already has," Ash pointed out.

Hurtheven grunted. Cheverly snorted. Alicia sent Penelope a significant glance over her shoulder.

"Boys," she said with a heavenward glance.

"Chev is Poseidon," Hurtheven explained. But we are planting an oar at the base of my mountain because that's what Odysseus is told he must do to placate Poseidon."

"Ah, well," Ash said wryly, " now everything makes perfect sense."

"Hurtheven is mad," Chev reminded. "He's always been mad."

"And," Ash sent Chev a significant glance, "you waited until we dragged our wives to this mountain to remind me?"

"You know," Penelope interjected, "I'm all for fulfilling the prophecy."

Chev lifted a brow.

Penelope shrugged. "Well it cannot hurt, can it? Just in case there is a sea god and he's still mad because you survived and stole his thunder."

"Thunder belongs to Zeus." Hurtheven corrected. "But other than that, you are right. Considering all that's happened, I decided we cannot be too safe."

"What exactly was the prophecy?" Ash asked.

Hurtheven glanced rather wistfully at Penelope. "When the oar Odysseus brings is planted by a people who do not know the sea, then the curse will be ended, and Odysseus and Penelope will grow old and happy together."

"Hurtheven's gesture is sweet," Penelope said. "If you think about it."

"I'm not sweet." Hurtheven lifted his brows. "I'm practical."

"Yes," Ashbey chuckled. "Planting an oar is exactly what you'd expect of a practical man."

"Ready Chev?" Hurtheven asked.

"You can do the honors," Chev replied.

Hurtheven lifted the oar and then shoved it down, hard. It wedged between the stones, standing on its own.

"Well, it's done," Ashbey said.

Hurtheven nodded at his handiwork. "And the couple will be long-blessed."

"I, for one, feel much better," Penelope said.

"As do I," Cheverley chuckled.

Together, they made their way back to Hurtheven's castle, returning just before the start of a downpour.

Rain ticked against the windows as Cheverley and Penelope undressed for the evening.

"Come here," Cheverley said by the window.

Tying her dressing gown, she joined him. He motioned down into the courtyard.

Lightening flashed.

"Was that—" She placed her hand against her chest. "Is Hurtheven still out there? In the rain?"

A great crack of thunder sounded and then another flash of lightening lit the sky—bright enough to illuminate Hurtheven's face, upturned to the heavens and smiling.

The rumble of thunder soon followed.

"Should we bring him inside?" Penelope asked, uncertain.

"Oh, he'll come in on his own," Cheverley answered. "When he's good and drenched."

"Aren't you worried about him?" she asked.

"Worried for Hurtheven? Not in general, no." Chev kissed his bride. "But do I hope he finds the happiness we have? Absolutely. Even if he must face a dozen or so labors before he sees the light."

THE END