Adam's Treasure by Diane Wylie

Adam's Treasure is a historical romance set right after the Civil War.



Back cover blurb:


Master of disguise, Adam Skelding, is a Pinkerton agent on assignment. His mission:  Find the missing gold and stop the secretive Knights of the Golden Circle before they gain power. The future of the country depends upon it.
 

All Marilla Logan wanted was a way to escape from her life as a tavern wench. A dark stranger who breaks into her room offers her only chance. Swept up into a life of intrigue, she becomes ensnared in a tangled web of clues, danger, and emotion to break the code.

Excerpt:

       The seconds ticked by and no one spoke. But Adam knew there were men in the room; he could hear them breathing and smell their sweat mingling with the smoky scents.
      A sharp prick of pain above his left nipple almost made him reach out to punch the closest person. He forcibly stopped any reaction. Just as he had told Marilla—no reaction to the unexpected.
      “Do you feel anything?” a new voice asked.
      “Yes,” Adam said, hoping against hope that he would say the right thing.
      “What was it?”
      “A torture.” The liquid warmth of his blood trailed down his chest.
      A low murmur of approval rippled through the room. Someone took his right hand and led him forward.
      “Mr. Adam Smith, as no man can become a Knight unless he is free, and of mature age…” The voice droned on and Adam answered as best he could.
      “Kneel”
      He did.
      The rituals went on for hours. The blindfold stayed on. Adam kneeled and stood when told, answered questions and parroted vows.
      “I solemnly promise that I will not write those secrets…hidden mysteries…prevent disclosure by my unworthiness…”
      Men shifted and moved through the room. He was given wine to drink, laced with some underlying taste.
      “…Violation, I understand, requires the penalty of having my throat cut across, my tongue torn out by the root...” he recited.
      More drink. Kneel. Stand. Darkness. Smoke.
      “…So help me, God,” he repeated.
No faces. No friends.


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