Dreamwood by Heather Mackey

he went almost frighteningly still. Finally, after a few long moments he tented his broad fingers under his blocky chin. “So, the one thing that can cure it is the one thing we don’t have. How does that help me?”
    â€œWell, it does, see.” She couldn’t sit still. She jumped up and now she was telling the story. “Everyone believes dreamwood is gone. But what if
they’re
wrong?”
    His deep brown eyes followed her as she stalked about the room. Maybe she wasn’t being businesslike, but he was really listening—and it gave her hope. “What if dreamwood still exists? And what if someone has secret knowledge, secret information that would let them go after it?”
    Angus leaned forward, intent. His fine wool morning coat couldn’t conceal his broad lumberjack’s shoulders. “What kind of secret information?”
    Her hair had come loose again and she brushed it impatiently out of her eyes. “How to find it. How to survive in the forest without going crazy or getting killed. If you lend me that money, I’ll go get some for you.”
    The timber baron settled back into the chair, which looked too small to bear his weight. His eyes glinted with interior thought.
    â€œWell, that’s an interesting idea,” he said, playing with a handsome gold-plated fountain pen. “The truth is, I have heard rumors about dreamwood surviving in that forest. And if tales are true of the golden wood’s powers, perhaps it could save our trees. But I’d like to hear why you think you’re able to find it, when so many other men have gone to the Thumb and failed. Men who were bigger than you and stronger than you. Although”—he smiled again—“maybe not smarter than you.”
    Lucy tingled at the compliment. She sat back down in her chair and leaned forward. “That’s just it. Being big and strong doesn’t matter. You just need to know enough science to be able to find dreamwood. Plus, I’ve spent my childhood in haunted places, so I don’t plan on getting spooked.” She lifted her chin. “In fact I’d say I’m better qualified than anyone.”
    His handsome face grew serious. “That may be, but I’m loath to send a child into the haunted forest. What if by giving you this money I’m signing your death warrant?”
    â€œYou’re not,” she said quickly. She didn’t think that way, why should he?
    â€œYou’re new to Saarthe, Miss Darrington. You don’t know our forests. It was perhaps that same misplaced confidence that led your father to Devil’s Thumb. And now he’s lost. Whatever he met there waits for you as well.”
    Lucy snorted. “If I’m going to let
you
scare me I might as well give up right now.”
    He chuckled. “Very amusing.” He stretched his arms behind his head, thinking, while Lucy prickled with nervous energy. At last he spoke. “It’s true that we tend toward superstition in Outer Saarthe. But I’m a man who likes to think for himself. I’m a rational man . . . A fair one, too . . .” He gave an apologetic look at the Knightlys’ study as if regretting that he now owned it.
    â€œI liked your father a great deal,” he said. “We came from different backgrounds, but I thought we understood each other.” He paused, and when he continued there was a slight catch in his voice. “I was orphaned at an early age, so I know what it is to make your own way. To break free of the constraints others want to put on you.”
    Yes,
thought Lucy,
that’s it,
feeling somehow that Angus was speaking not only about his childhood, but about her own secret thoughts and hopes.
    â€œWhich is exactly why you should invest in my expedition,” she concluded for him. “My father always said it was important to make his own way, and he passed that on to me. He trained me on his