Author's note: This was written for Klarosummer Bingo. It was a romance that wasn't meant to be. But they were too stubborn to fight their connection. When Caroline's freedom is at stake, she has to make a tough choice — one with unexpected consequences.
Warning: A little bit of Klaroline sexytimes. Also, angsty angst. Violence. And possibly a happy ending if you squint?
Also, thank you, guest reviewer Jennifer, for reaching out about my Chapter 8: Part 3 - A Simple Kind of Man. Yes, I have completed this story and you can find it as a standalone multi-chap also called A Simple Kind of Man.
Prompt: Sailing
"All the privilege I claim for my own sex, is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone."
― Jane Austen, Persuasion
It was unseemly — and no doubt if the fine and proper ladies of the town's social club could see Caroline boldly passing time unchaperoned with such a rogue, news would reach her father all the way in the lighthouse before breakfast. But it wasn't unseemly. Or, it was, but it was...complicated. Klaus was terribly complicated.
She first met him walking along the rocky shore, the moonlight casting a lovely glow on the sea's gently rolling waves. He was kneeling in the sand, mindlessly trailing his hands through the water. No. The water went through him. She'd always thought the notion of ghosts and hauntings was foolish talk among the old gossips in the sewing circles, but it was difficult to dismiss such flights of fancy when it studied you so intently. And flashed you a devilish smirk.
Her father always admonished her questioning nature and insisted she quell her sharp tongue, but Klaus encouraged her forthrightness. He was a marvelous resource, and during their long walks, he taught her what he knew of sailing, and distant lands, and pirates. It was thrilling and oh so scandalous to realize she'd become the only confidant of a pirate.
"It was here, wasn't it," Caroline hesitantly asked him, "where your ship sank?"
Klaus nodded, a twinge in his tone despite it being such a distant memory. "There wasn't a lighthouse to guide us back then. Then the storm came, and with a harpy's vengeance it descended upon the Bloodline, tearing our ship asunder before crashing the remaining pieces against the shore." A sigh escaped his lips as he confessed, "The crew was nothing more than cut-throat reprobates, but I regret my brother Henrik was aboard. An obstinate lad, he stowed away in the hold, sneaking rations from the pickled herring barrels."
Caroline fervently wished she could squeeze his hand to offer comfort, but she knew it would be little more than a chill passing over her skin. An almost-touch was somehow worse.
"When the squalls pummeled the ship, I swear I tried to reach him," he hoarsely cried, "and for a single golden moment, Davy Jones was thwarted and I managed to capture Henrik's wrist. I grasped with all my might, but the current was too strong and ripped my brother from me, sending him to that devil's locker."
Her cheeks were wet; ears ringing with the tale of her fondest friend's sorrow. "And that's why you linger?"
"It was." Klaus paused, his furtive glance full of meaning as he revealed, "But now I have a new reason."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she shivered in the sudden ice on the breeze. The imposing shadow of the lighthouse stood in the distance, an unpleasant reminder of her obligations. The meager coin her father earned as lighthouse keeper was not enough to secure their future, and soon she would be expected to marry. Although, she had her doubts as to the type of good match a poor lighthouse keeper's daughter could make. Her father had entreated her countless times not to worry; he would have a care for her heart as well as her mind when he found her match.
But what of Klaus' heart and mind? The stories he told made her gasp with delight, setting her imagination ablaze. She scarcely could contain the patter of her heart in his presence, and to have him confirm all that she felt was a gift — and a curse. She favored him with a tremulous smile, hoping he understood all that was in her heart, but that she dare not say.
With a smile tinged in sadness, he sat upon the sand, patting a place beside him. He was nothing more than a shade's flimsy presence, but he commanded her attention as though he were flesh. Wrapping her shawl tightly about her shoulders, she folded her skirts to avoid the damp shore, settling so near she fancied she could almost feel his breath upon her cheek.
"There is a sailing term that comes to mind in this moment: deadlight. In its roughest terms, it means to affix a board or rag over the ship's porthole during a raging sea, but when the sea turns vengeful, it takes on a plainer meaning: to set oneself free." Fists clenched in the pale light, he muttered, "Henrik's death set me on that path, and as the frothing waves swallowed me, I welcomed the deadlight."
"I am a selfish, craven woman," she whispered, keeping her gaze fixed upon the dark horizon. She could feel Klaus' curious stare, and she sighed. "I should wish for your freedom, for your passage into the heavens. But more than a century stands between us, and without your deadlight, we never would've met."
His smile is as radiant as the sun, and he shyly ducked his curly head. "Then I would've spurned the heavens just to make your acquaintance, love."
A small fire greeted her when she quietly made her way back inside their home next to the lighthouse, and she wondered at her father's absence until she realized he must be on another journey to refill the oil lamps in the tower. She bent to stoke the coals, readying the kettle for a calming cup of tea, when the door opened and her father greeted her warmly. "Daughter! You've returned from your nightly stroll."
Her father afforded her more freedoms than a maid normally was allowed, on account that her mother had long since passed on to the heavens. He often told her that Mother Nature would be her teacher, as a father's firm hand could not fathom such gentle learnings. His philosophy had served her well in pursuit of her fondest friend, and she felt the blush rising in her cheeks as she thought of Klaus. She quickly busied herself with the teacups, adding a bit more cream to stretch the crumbling tea leaves scraped from the bottom of the dented canister.
He pressed on in her silence, telling her eagerly, "I've marvelous news, dearest child. Master Lockwood has impressed upon me a most generous offer for your hand!"
Caroline barely held back a gasp at the news. Richard Lockwood was head of the governor's council, a powerful man whose influence spread as wildfire throughout the lands. He possessed wealth a dozen times over what a sensible person could ever spend.
And was a decade older than her father.
The Lockwood family's tragedies were spoken of in hushed whispers about town, from the horrid carriage accident that took the life of his only son to the unfortunate business not a fortnight after in which his wife fell down their grand staircase. The mausoleum he'd commissioned in their honor promised to be magnificent.
It seemed that Master Lockwood desired a young wife to breed him a new son. Caroline shivered, already feeling the harsh grip of fingers at her neck — she wondered how many times his late wife and child felt them before their untimely accidents. Pressing her lips together, she nodded solemnly, her tone cutting as she accused, "You pledged to account for my heart and mind."
"And I have," her father replied sharply, the glint of greed overtaking his lined face. "The Lockwood estate and its many holdings extend far beyond these simple lands. Enough to leave this dreary lighthouse and confines of this beggar's life!"
And she would be trussed as one would a well-fed pig.
Her father had traded her happiness — and likely her life — upon the promise of coins. May he choke on them. "Then I am a fortunate daughter to have such a kind benefactor," Caroline stoically murmured, carefully stirring her tea without the slightest tremble of her furious fingers. As she bent to allow her traitorous father's kiss placed on her forehead, she kept her gaze firm. A plan began to form.
It wasn't as she would have it — this pain in her breast — but fate worked its will regardless. Her bare feet sank into the wet sands, and she savored the cold of the crashing waves. One last time.
"Your mood is melancholy," Klaus ventured as he appeared beside her, his shade a comfort she wished she could carry with her.
The tears fell before Caroline could draw breath. "My father has arranged for my hand. I've been bought and sold as one would a prized sow. And likely to be butchered just as handily," she said bitterly.
He clenched his jaw, steel flaring in his gray eyes as he bit out, "Your betrothed is not a gentle man."
Her shrill laughter was brittle to her ears. "Master Lockwood is a great many things — nearly all of them terrible. I refuse to shackle myself to such a beast." Her blue eyes swam with tears as she regarded Klaus fondly. "As much as it pains me, tonight I leave these shores never to return."
His wounded expression broke her heart, but the resolve in his voice gave her strength. "I've always admired your courage, love. Would that I could run Lockwood through with my blade, I would do it a thousand times to bring you peace." The hoarseness of his tone revealed how helpless he felt, unable to affect his surroundings.
With a tilt of his head, Klaus asked curiously, "You're far too clever to leave things to chance — tell me of your plans."
Caroline warmed at his praise, cursing her mixed fortune that only a dead man seemed to appreciate her cunning and wit. "I will seek passage on the steamship, Augustine, and travel up the coast. One of the sprawling northern cities seems like the ideal place to disappear. I've coin enough to last a few weeks, at least until I can procure work in a garment factory."
Klaus was quiet as he watched the jagged rocks engulfed by angry waves. He finally spoke, clearly wishing to temper his reply. "Adventure undoubtedly awaits you, love. I regret that where you go I cannot follow."
She shook her head, pinned curls escaping as she whispered, "My regrets are many." Reaching beneath her cloak, she began to unclasp the buttons at her bodice, shrugging off the puffed sleeves of her traveling dress and cloak. "But I refuse to regret this." She lay the stiff fabric in a rough pile atop a smooth stone, biting back a smile as she heard Klaus' strangled gasp.
"Caroline! What...I don't...have you taken leave of your senses?!"
His sputtering exclamations amused her as she stood before him, bare and defiant in the soft glow of the moon. "Your indignant squawking is hardly befitting such a rogue pirate," she teased. "Surely you've ravished a maiden or two in your day?"
There was no mistaking his desire as he slowly swept his gaze over her, a seductive smirk gracing his lips. "In my time, I may have made a few hearts flutter, and caused a comely blush or two." His brazen attitude fell short, however, the moment he raised a hand to her cheek, only to let it fall at his side in defeat. He averted his eyes, suddenly hesitant. "Sweetheart, it wouldn't be...I...I'm not able to..."
Caroline hated to hear the shame in his voice. She stepped toward him, close enough that she could see the soft sweep of his lashes. "I understand that a liaison between us wouldn't be the same as if we were both flesh, but I want you to be the one to see me this way." She faltered, courage suddenly leaving her. "I just...I wanted this moment with you; something I could treasure the rest of my days."
He seemed to puff up with pride, the reverence obvious in his voice as he told her, "You honor me. I'm the luckiest of bastards to have encountered such a magnificent creature."
Kneeling upon the sand, he gestured for her to lay down, lips curving into a wicked smile as he teased, "Let's explore this treasured memory you crave."
He hovered his palm above her belly, and her flesh tingled with anticipation. Despite his inability to touch, there was a sensual feminine wariness that had Caroline tearing at her lips to keep from a desperate keening. Her nipples were hard little points in the cold evening air, but his admiring gaze lit a fire within her flesh. "Would that I were made whole again, I'd set my lips upon your grand globes and suckle until you panted quite prettily."
At her scandalized gasp, Klaus grinned, leaning down to whisper, "Instead, I want you to take your breasts in your palms." Caroline did his bidding after only the slightest of hesitation, her cold skin prickling...and yet purring at her touch. "Roll your fingers back and forth; tease yourself," he commanded.
She wasn't experienced in the art of self-pleasure — moments to oneself were few; and it wasn't as though the lusty novelette she kept hidden beneath her sheets provided frank instructions. A small whimper escaped as her nails lightly raked the tender skin, and Klaus let out a hum of approval. "Trail your fingers down now, don't be bashful, love."
Down. It vexed Caroline how her body could remain such a mystery, no matter her clumsy explorations. But with Klaus' guidance, all would be revealed, she eagerly thought. "It isn't unease, but rather a fumbling uncertainty that plagues me," she lightly replied, relishing the slight tickling at her sides.
Klaus brightened at her confession. "Then permit me to instruct such yearning fingers." Ghostly hands hovered over her form as he entreated, "Venture to those curls." Raw, open need colored his tone as he confessed, "I would ransom the oceans for a taste."
Cheeks flaming, she let herself explore, her gentle pets no longer cautious as she felt the first stirrings of heat from her core. When she slipped a finger inside, somehow it felt different than before. Because she could feel his gaze. She craved it. "Perfection," he murmured, "Your wet velvet calls out, demanding satisfaction."
Caroline increased her movements, finding the friction delightful, but instinctively knew something was remiss. She looked to Klaus for instruction, the quirk of his lips making her shiver with excitement. "Stroke your little pleasure button." Placing his finger above hers, he made tiny circles and indicated she should follow his movements. Curious, she mimicked the path he traced, building toward that blissful moment she'd read about.
"I long for your touch, Klaus."
It was a bold confession that left them both breathless, a naked want that lay between them as Klaus roughly echoed, "As I long for yours, sweetheart."
It was as though the waves paused their crashing to witness her ecstasy, and she was enveloped in a warmth that touched every part. Shuddering as she cried out, Caroline gave into the wanton feeling that she'd coveted nearly from the moment she met him. It wasn't clear how long they lay on the sand, gazes greedily devouring every pore and freckle, knowing with awful certainty that their moment was nearly over.
Caroline blinked away the tears, not wanting to mar such a beautiful memory. Klaus' presence always brought a slight chill to her skin, a mere nuisance she batted away because his eyes held all the warmth she never realized she needed. No man ever will compare. She stubbornly steered her mind from such thoughts, and shakily rose to her feet with a small, defeated sigh.
As she slowly began to dress, Klaus watched her fondly, sorrow etched along the planes of his handsome face. "You've stirred such feelings within me; those that I considered dead long before my flesh followed suit. But I know now that I'm in love with you, Caroline. And I pray you carry my love with you always."
Her heart ached at his confession, and she tearfully nodded, whispering, "Of course. As long as you to carry my love as well." They shared a final, longing glance, all too aware of the cursed space between them. Their whispered goodbyes seemed to linger in the cold sea breeze, dogging her steps as she hurried up the well-worn path toward her freedom.
It vexed her to know that all her careful planning could be so quickly undone. Just as she started toward the docks, she realized in a panic that her mother's brooch was still pinned to the dusty bible her father kept in the lighthouse. Caroline often had worn it as a child as a way to feel close to her mother after losing her to consumption. It was the only item her father permitted them to keep after her passing and she refused to leave without it.
It gladdened her heart to see her father's shadow in the window of their tiny home — he was there for his nightly tea. She should be able to slip into the lighthouse before he returned with more lamp oil. Steeling herself, she began the steep climb up the steps, puffing from the exertion.
The beautiful coastal views always filled her with a sense of wonder, and she sadly tore her gaze away from a window to rummage through the crooked shelf where her father kept his books. With trembling fingers, the bible was in her grasp and she quickly slipped the thin latch free, minding the sharp point and she lovingly cradled the brooch.
"Sentimentality is a woman's downfall," her father's voice rumbled, startling her as he pushed open the creaking door. "Your deceitful plot was assured; as we speak, your cowardly form could've cleared the township. And yet, here you stand, that useless trinket the source of your ruin."
Caroline cursed her misfortune, seething that she'd underestimated him. She'd taken care to only pluck the belongings most critical to her journey, but he must've taken note. Clutching the delicate shell and pearl brooch, she brazenly replied, "I would not leave my mother's memory in your slippery care. She deserved better than you! And I deserve better than a father who would trade me to a brutal beast for thin coins and empty promises."
She'd never spoken such sharp words between them, but once she gave voice to all that she'd hidden in her breast, she realized it was the truest she'd ever been to herself. When the strike came across her cheek, it was swift and cruel. It seemed her father was ready to reflect his truest self as well.
"You will stop this foolishness and remember your place! Master Lockwood will elevate us both far beyond our present rank. Count yourself fortunate to be so honored!"
The sting of her cheek was nothing compared to her heart. "Honored," she spat, her tone incredulous. "Is the cow so honored when it spies the cleaver?" Some darker impulse took root, and a cruel smile graced her lips as she lied to her father. "Master Lockwood wouldn't dare sully his good name with such a tainted prize. I've lain with another and will scream the joy of it until the heavens are sealed against my soul's entry!"
As the fury twisted his flaming face, Caroline shook her head bitterly, turning to take her leave. Toward her freedom. Punishing fingers suddenly gripped her arm, bruising flesh until she gasped in pain. When her father brutally whirled her around, she instinctively lashed out, scoring his forearm with the needle end of the brooch's clasp before it clattered to the floor.
Drawing her father's blood was a fleeting moment of pleasure when she found herself more firmly in his grasp, dangling at the edge of the open window. Caroline read his vile intentions and found purchase with his threadbare coat, and when he pushed her across the ledge, he unexpectedly was pulled with her.
For a brief moment, both were trapped side by side, dangling from the red brick overhang. Caroline's heart screamed in fear, but the terror on her father's face fostered a grim satisfaction that she couldn't deny. Whatever fragile bond existed between them was forever broken. It was a stranger who tried to kill her, Caroline told herself.
When his fingers finally gave way, her father's body stiffened before plummeting to his death on the jagged rocks below. His horrific yelp echoed in her ears, a glimpse of her own painful future. Her arms cried out from holding her weight so precariously, and she only managed to raise herself a few inches before her trembling limbs sagged once again. The wind cruelly tugged at her clothes, and she screamed as she felt her body briefly lifted from the tower's side only to slam against it once again.
As the mortar crumbled between her fingers, Caroline thought of Klaus, wishing he was with her. A foolish notion — Klaus' spirit was bound to the shoreline. But that didn't stop her from desperately hoping that they could share another walk along the shore. And then she felt his presence. She looked up, amazed to see him leaning out of the window. "You're here," she whispered in awe.
"You called out for me," he told her, the urgency in his voice heartbreaking. Klaus reached for Caroline, desperately trying to grasp at her arm, only for his pale flesh to fade into hers like a wisp of smoke. He tried over and over, attempting to will his hands to connect with her skin.
"Klaus," she admonished, fighting to keep her voice steady. "There's nothing left to be done."
A solemn look of understanding passed between them, and Klaus pleaded, "Welcome the deadlight, sweetheart."
With a tearful gasp, Caroline reached out to the darkness, unsure of whether the world would be kind or cruel when she looked upon it with new eyes.
But she was looking forward to that walk along the shore.
