âEvery baby is a girl.â
âAre you sure theyâre all mine?â Alex asked, incredulous his wife had accomplished such a feat.
âTheyâre all tagged Banning, sir.â
âYou didnât accidentally wrap up too many?â
âNo, theyâre all Daphneâs.â
Alex looked at his progeny. One tiny bundle squirmed in her blanket wrappings, starting a chain reaction. Suddenly, all three pairs of eyes were open and staring around. Alex closed his eyes. A whole new, unexplored world laid out its vastness before him. Lace and ruffles. Diaries and separate phone lines. Boyfriends⦠Oh, Lord. Three girls.
And if they were anything like their mother, theyâd have their daddy wrapped about their pretty pink fingers inside of five minutes.
âGood morning, gentle men! Keep that stiff upper lip, Alexander Number One,â Daphne Way Banning sang out as she hurried past the six somber portraits of the Banning Boors. Hanging in the great hall of the Green Forks Ranch, the portraits lent austerity and a sense of family continuity to the Banning mansion. Privately, Daphne thought that the portraits needed more than a good dusting. They watched her with grim lines where their mouths should be and eyes that seemed disapproving and cold.
Wait until they hear my news, Daphne thought excitedly, itâll really send those stiff lips to their noses. âWhereâs Alex, Sinclair?â
âIn with his father, Miss Daphne.â The elderly valet looked her way. âI donât think Alexander is feeling very well this morning.â
âOh, dear.â Daphne hurried along. She had some news that might please the ailing Alexander. The pa tri arch of the family, he had let it be known since the moment Daphne and Alex had gotten back from the honeymoon that he expected to see grandbabies. Soon. They had been very careful not to oblige him too quickly, not out of a sense of meanness but simply from needing time to get to know each other as husband and wife. Oh, sheâd been in love with Alex Banning forever, long before heâd known she was alive on the neighboring ranch. He had been slower to give his heart. Sheâd been surprised when he proposed after a three-month-long whirl wind court ship, packed with trips to Europe and yacht outings and heady romance. Daphne had said, âYes! Yes!â when he asked for her hand. A dream come trueâ¦
She wondered how Alex would feel about her news. They had been so careful not to get pregnant, but temptation had proved too great one en chanted Saturday night. Wild kisses sometime after midnight turned into a burning urge to get home and finish what they had started. Running upstairs and getting into bed, theyâd spent hours passionately loving each other. The box of condoms lay undisturbed in the bedside table drawer.
Too late to worry about that. Daphne walked to the bedroom, which had become a sickroom, and listened for voices to make certain Alexander was awake. She didnât want to disturb him if he was resting.
âPromise me, son.â
She heard her husband sigh. âDad, I donât have to promise. Everything will turn out fine.â
âI donât have much longer to live. I want to know before I die that you under stand you must produce a son!â
âFine, Dad. But if you donât mind, weâre going to wait a while before we work on it.â
âItâs been three months! What are you waiting for?â
Daphne stood still, but she heard Alexâs foot steps on the opposite side of the room. They were rapid and impatient, as if heâd gotten up from the bedside to stare out the window.
âWe barely know each other, Dad. I know this dynasty thing is big on your mind, but right now, Daphne and I arenât thinking about producing heirs.â
Wrong, husband. We are nowâin about six months, Daphne thought unhappily. She touched her stomach protectively.
âSon, let me tell you a story.â
âHope fully one I havenât heard before?â
Daphne started to smile.
âSit down!â Alexander thundered.
The smile froze and then slid off her face. She heard her husband sigh again as he sat down.
âFor six generations, thereâs been one male child born into each Banning marriage. Who knows why? Iâve often wondered if it was a curse left over from the days when our fore fathers were bravely beating pagan enemies off the English shores. One child, and no more,â Alexander rasped.