Niven Meets His Waterloo (Highland Whisky Kings Book 3) by Anna Markland

Author:Anna Markland [Markland, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

The Three Trees had wandered through the barracks on several occasions but Niven might as well be invisible for all the attention they’d paid him. It seemed they had no idea what to do with him now he’d befriended several men of the regiment. He’d been quizzed as to how he’d ended up marching with them. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, he’d been reluctant to admit he’d been kidnapped. The soldiers were about to face a mighty enemy and it wouldn’t do to undermine their confidence in their officers. A day of reckoning would come, but this wasn’t the time or place.

Sitting on his cot in the barracks one evening, Niven was eating tasteless army rations off a tin plate when he became aware the chatter around him had ceased.

Expecting to see one of the Halstead boys when he looked up, he rose immediately to greet Kenneth McKay, the piper from the Highland Regiment he’d met on the docks weeks ago. “’Tis a pleasure to see a fellow Scot,” he declared, extending his hand.

“Aye, what the fyke is a highlander doin’ wi’ an English regiment?” McKay asked.

Niven trotted out his usual response. “’Tis a long story.”

McKay frowned but didn’t press him. “I heard tell ye piped all the way to Brussels.”

Niven grinned. “Aye. I did.”

McKay smirked. “I also heard ye’re nay a soldier. Ye’ve nay weapon nor uniform.”

“True.”

“I reckon I can rustle up a proper tartan and a uniform if ye’ve a mind to join our regiment.”

Niven shook his head. “I wouldna be much use to ye. If I fired a musket, ’tis doubtful I’d hit anything.”

McKay shook his head. “The regiment has enough men to do that. We need another piper.”

It was as if Fate had brought Niven to this dangerous place. It was well known that a tune on the pipes gave men courage when they faced an enemy. He could play his part. “I accept,” he said, suddenly remembering McKay’s words. “Though I dinna ken what ye mean by a proper tartan.”

“Ye canna seriously expect to join our ranks wearin’ a MacGregor kilt? I’ll find a Cameron of Erracht plaid for ye and a bonnet. And the army’s Ghillie brogues will protect ye better than yon boots.”

Niven wolfed down the rest of his meal, grabbed his bagpipes and bade farewell to his chums in the 32nd.

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