(Excerpt from PICTURE PERFECT LEGACY, copyright Genene Valleau, writing as Genie Gabriel)
"There's an old Irish custom that might be of help in this situation." Patrick stood, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "When a man expresses an interest in an Irish lass--you are interested in Marly, aren't you, Mr. Browning?"
"Very much so." Dawson wondered what trick this seemingly easygoing priest would pull out of his vestments.
"Irish custom states when a man declares his intent to court a lass, he must meet certain requirements from the lass' immediate family."
"You're all adopted and we're not Irish," Marly stated.
"Ah, lass, you wound me." Patrick placed a hand over his heart. "We are family in action and Irish in all ways that matter."
"Spare me the theatrics." Marly rolled her eyes.
"The right of refusal belongs not to the lass, but to the prospective groom." Patrick turned to Dawson. "Arise, my son."
Slowly, Dawson stood, feeling like a small child caught stealing from the church plate. The wily priest's intent, he assumed.
"For the honor of courting this fair lassie, you will be required to meet a challenge from each of her seven brothers--"
"No." Marly stood and placed herself squarely between Dawson and her brothers.
"What are the challenges?" Dawson nudged Marly to one side so he could see around her.
"I will make my own decision of who I will and will not marry." Marly fisted her hands on her hips. "You are not going to engage in some display of testosterone with me as the prize."
"You're not acting like much of a prize, little sister."
The brothers laughed.
"You're every inch a prize to me," Dawson spoke quietly to Marly.
"Then you agree?" Collin asked.
"Dawson, you don't know what these barbarians are capable of." Marly clutched Dawson's arm.
"I can beat these wimps at their own games," Dawson declared.
Marly groaned as interest stirred among her brothers. Their eyes lit with excitement as the rumble of their conversation grew louder.
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