Letting go of her previously held propriety, Béatrix chuckled lightly at his suggestion. “Wholesome, you say? Last I checked that wasn’t an accurate adjective for our family.” She smiled at that and a dark sparkle lit up her already unnaturally blue eyes as she headed over to him. With shoulder-length hair, even in his slight annoyance with the scribes, he was a decidedly handsome Scot. Although, with his uncanny resemblance to her late sire and mate, there was no real question as to why she’d think such a thing. Just a thought though, thoughts were safer than workings of the heart.

“You’re in luck, though, I was indeed looking for a night of hunting and debauchery. Maria has a show tonight, maybe the others would fancy a sanguine stroll. We could even visit her at Tortuga, but first…” she was close enough now to offer him a taste from her flask. Both of their senses were strong enough to identify its contents. Trixy playfully waited for his look of feigned disappointment at her illicit indulgences.