Greater Love Hath No Man

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

One month followed the other, and it was amazing how smoothly things ran when one had the wherewithal to pay the bills. The resentment I felt toward my father’s intrusion into my affairs began to ease but it would be a very long time before I forgave what he and Barbara’s father had done, and I wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

As it turned out, I had little time to brood. In addition to my studies, I’d discovered someone who appeared to be drawn to my green eyes. Although I’d thoroughly enjoyed making love to Barbara, the thought did cross my mind on occasion: would I…perhaps…enjoy making love to him?

* * * *

I’d been watching Jeremy Waters, a slender young man who was a fellow student at St Antony’s, for some time. His clothes were nondescript. Granted there wasn’t much from which to choose, but it appeared to me he was embracing post-war austerity with a trifle more enthusiasm than might be warranted for one who was the same age as I—the colours he chose…or which were chosen for him—made him look washed out and older than his years.

Still, there was something about his looks and his demeanour that appealed to me and made me keep watching him.

Perhaps it was his light brown hair, which was shot through with streaks that appeared golden. It was rather longer than was the style, it looked very soft, and I wondered how it would feel beneath my palms or feathering over my body.

Perhaps it was his height. At six feet, he was two inches taller than me.

Or perhaps it was his velvety dark brown eyes, which I noticed on the rare occasions when he gazed in my general direction.

I couldn’t help but wish he’d watch me in return. However, it seemed unlikely.

* * * *

“Oi, Trevalyan.” Figby hailed me. Apparently half the Classics and English crowd were in the little pub, having a pint.

I’d have backed away, but it was too late. “Hallo, Figby. You wanted something?”

“Nah, but we fancy you do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We’ve noticed you haven’t been paying much heed to any of the lovely ladies in our fair town.”

Of course I wouldn’t do that. Up until a couple of months prior, I’d been a married man, although none of this lot were aware, and I’d have been damned before I told any of them about my private life.

“And?” I asked in a bored tone. I let my gaze drift over the occupants of the pub, startled to see Waters sitting alone in a corner. He’d hunched his shoulders, as if expecting a blow.

Figby saw where I was looking and spoke loudly enough for the entire pub to hear. “Perhaps you fancy buggering Waters. God knows he’s a homo if ever there was one!”

Waters turned pale, and for a second I wondered if he’d toss up his accounts. He pushed back his chair, rose, and made his way out of the pub.

I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Actually, what I fancied was Waters buggering me, but this was hardly something I’d announce to all and sundry. It wasn’t anything I’d even say to Waters.

“Look at his face! I reckon you hit the nail on the head, Figs!” one of the others hooted, and I knew I’d have to act quickly to put a halt to any nasty rumours that might get started during the night.

I hurled my glass to the wooden floor, where it exploded in a shower of glass and bitter, and seized Figby by the throat. “Waters happens to be a friend of mine,” I snarled, making my voice low and hypnotic, talking to them. I tightened my grip until his eyes bulged. “You ruddy, rotten, rowdy lot will leave him alone, or I’ll bloody well tear you all apart.”

Figby scrabbled at the fingers squeezing his throat, but I more or less ignored him. I kept an eye on his friends, who seemed at a loss, uncertain, unsure, and undecided as to what action to take, or if, indeed, they should take any. They couldn’t tell whether I was serious or not. After all, I was the son of a baron, and as such usually behaved with the upmost decorum.

I flung Figby into them. “And recall, if you will: I have friends at St Antony. If I learn through them that you’ve said one word…one…word…about Waters…” I bared my teeth at them. “Well, let’s just say it will not be pretty.” I went to the bar. “I apologize for breaking the glass.” I took a handful of notes from my wallet and gave them to him.

With a final glare at my fellow students—God help the future of Great Britain—I stalked out of the pub.