She couldn’t help that her knees felt like jelly when he started quoting Shakespeare in that damn accent of his. Did he have any clue just how hot he was when he did that? How much she wanted to jump him then and there and to hell with who might see her try to ravish him? Except, Caroline wasn’t about to do that with the sea of people around them, tourists and natives enjoying a day of sightseeing.
“Pride led to his downfall,” Caroline replied, taking Klaus’ hands again and lacing their fingers together. “He believed he was indestructible but he wasn’t in the way he believed at least. Though, joke was kind of on those who betrayed him because his name lived on, even more so than Mark Antony’s--though who doesn’t know about his and Cleopatra’s story, come on--so Caesar kind of got the last laugh. They might have killed him, but he was a legend who was greater than any man.”
But she understood, or at least she thought she did. Those who had betrayed Caesar were killed just as those who tried to betray Klaus met untimely ends. Or endured torturous lives full of running in fear. She wasn’t all that surprised that he’d liken himself to Caesar. Klaus was his own kind of legend back home, had been for more years than she was able to comprehend and there was little doubt in her mind that he would continue to be so for many more centuries to come.
She peered closely at him, pursing her lips as she regarded him. “Which, I love you, Klaus, but don’t go getting yourself killed just so your legend lives on. I swear I will bring you back from the grave just to kill you myself then. And your siblings would so help me.”