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In Lead Me Into Temptation, what does Garrett nickname Violet?
Garrett calls Violet his Gold Dust Bride.
Violet Webster is a bride on the run. The last thing she wants is to get married, especially to a stranger twice her age. However, agreeing to be a mail-order bride had been her only option and it paid the steep passage to San Francisco so she could locate her father. She’d find him too, if only her betrothed’s son would stay out of her way.
Garrett Sutherlin is on a mission. Delivering the striking, ebony haired beauty to his father’s doorstep not only paid off his debt, the effort would grant him freedom from the man’s condescending hold. As far as he’s concerned, Miss Webster made her own bed.
Unfortunately, his father will be the one to lie beside her.
“Sutherlin?” A surprised gasp escaped her as hope stirred, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly in her stomach. “But you’re not…no, you can’t be.” Confused, she searched his face. “Are you my intended?”
Violet locked onto his gaze. She saw something she couldn’t quite read in the darkened depths. Sorrow? Regret? Whatever it was, the emotion quickly faded and was replaced by a clear veil of distrust.
“No, little dove, I’m not,” he stated firmly. “Or should I call you cunning fox? Not that it matters.” He shrugged. “You are marrying my father.”
Her blood froze. Spoken out loud, the direness of her situation magnified. She was spoken for. Promised to his kin. A man twice her age, and, other than two corresponding letters, a faceless stranger.
For a moment, she’d actually longed for the possibility of the man standing before her being her future husband. Even embraced it. And cunning fox? The words stung only because they spoke the truth.
A painful, but honest depiction. At the moment, she felt anything but trustful. Yet, how could he know of her intentions? Didn’t matter. The search for her father trumped snide insinuations and witty tag-names, regardless of how true they might be.
“Shall we continue to our quarters?” he asked, shattering her thoughts and breaking the silence.
“Do I have a choice?” she questioned sharply, more upset at herself than his request. Unable to hold her tongue, she blurted, “And in regards to your blatant questioning of my character, perhaps you are right. However, considering the fact I feel as if I’ve been caught in a trap, the word cunning is hardly accurate.”
The quick retort brought forth a low rumble of laughter and a boyish grin, softening the hard, jagged scar under his eye. In response, her pulse spiked and a cool sheen of perspiration dampened her skin.
Not easily swayed by a man’s charms, certainly not a mere smile, she questioned the reaction. With her mind reeling, she continued planning a course of escape.
Now, she had one more reason she couldn’t possibly marry into this family.