At the end of the pier sat a quad bike with small trailers for their luggage. Carrie was surprised, but said nothing as she climbed onto the back and wrapped her arms around Sinclair's waist. While they still battled for dominance in their relationship occasionally, they had lapsed, for the most part, into an easy banter that bordered on teasing. She'd never had a real relationship before and, although there was a purpose to her wanting to be part of Sinclair's life, she found she was enjoying being part of a couple and had to remind herself that she would have to betray him in the end.
The trail was more of a goat track, and she was glad she was holding onto him tightly as they bounced over tree roots and small dips on their way up to the house. It was fun, and she squealed as he went too fast around a bend in the track and the wheels on one side left the ground, making her think they would tip over. Had she been driving instead of being a passenger she was sure she would have enjoyed the trip far more.
"A little bit shaken?" Sinclair asked with a wide smile as he helped her from the quad bike.
"You're a lunatic, you know that, right?" she laughed, pushing away his help.
"I do," he said with a perfectly straight face. "It's part of my charm," he smirked and hefted her bag from the small trailer, placing it on the ground. They'd driven into a deep carport of sorts, and she looked around, noting a range of bikes and water sports equipment. "Come in and I'll show you around," he walked towards a side door.
Nothing about this house seemed secure, and she frowned as she followed him into the lowest level of the house. The ground floor was full of equipment rooms and workshops with workbenches cluttered with tools and debris.
"This place is always a bit of a mess, everyone always seems to have a few abandoned projects they are going to get back to," he chuckled, leading her to a staircase.
When he said everyone, she assumed he meant the caretakers. She had met caretakers who acted as the owners and maintained the property at each of his homes. When she entered the first floor, she realised that his house was built to accommodate a much larger group of people than she had encountered in his other homes. The open floor plan was vast, with a large kitchen floating in the middle of the space and several areas where people could congregate around the room. This was obviously a house built for entertaining, despite being in an isolated location.
The pale wood furnishings lent themselves to the tropical feel of living on an island, and she felt like she was in an exclusive resort built not so much for romantic getaways but large gatherings of friends or family. She felt a little overwhelmed by the sheer size of the room, despite the simplicity of its furnishings, which made her remain silent as she took it all in.
"This is the great room," Sinclair said into the silence. "When we're all at home we gather here for most of the day."
"Great room's a good name, it's huge," Carrie turned to look at him. The fact that he said 'we' again registering in her brain. "You mention everyone downstairs, and now you said when everyone's here? Do you live with a lot of people here?" She was genuinely confused. At his other homes, a married couple had been the caretakers, and he'd never referred to them as We or Everyone. They welcomed him and retreated to their rooms when he arrived, giving them privacy. She had yet to see another soul on this island, aside from the man at the pier, and this house seemed too big for a couple to maintain and enjoy by themselves.
"Carrington, this is the Mansvelt family home, it will become mine when my parents pass, but they are still very much alive," he said, wondering how this had escaped her investigations. "Is it a turn off that I still officially live at home with my parents?" he asked with a perfectly straight face.
Carrie blinked; it hadn't even occurred to her that his father would remain here after retiring his place within the association of Hats. She imagined that when Sinclair stepped up to take his place, he would have also taken possession of Treasure Island for himself. Her mind worked quickly. His parents were Frazer and Georgia Mansvelt. Sinclair had four older sisters, all married and living in various parts of the world. 'Thank goodness they wouldn't be here,' she thought, and was thankful for the file Jordan had prepared for her on the Mansvelt family. She cursed herself for not investigating his family further instead of relying mostly on the information Robyn had gathered for her, and then on Jordan, who didn't have the same obsessiveness for details as her mother had.
"Your parents are here?" she asked, a little bit of panic creeping into her voice.
"Not at the moment," Sinclair said, noting the tension her voice and body language. "They made me promise not to throw any wild parties or invite girls back to my room," he teased her. "I promised no wild parties, but I did mention that I fully intended to break the other rule. Speaking of which," he took her hand and led her through the great room.
There was a playfulness to Sinclair that she hadn't seen before. It was as if he could fully relax in this place and not feel the need to keep his uptight air of total control over his life and everything in it, including her. He led her to a staircase on the far side of the room. The staircase led up to a platform from which three sturdy rope bridges radiated. Taking her hand, Sinclair led her along one of the bridges under the canopy of the rainforest. She looked up, surprised to see a narrow suspended roof that the vegetation had grown around and under.
They reached, what looked like, a replica of the main house, although not as big and not having a ground floor, meaning that to get back to the ground they would have to pass through the multi-storey main house. The jungle was thick and made seeing any distance difficult, but, as her eyes grew accustomed to it, she could make out the shapes of other buildings at various distances within the foliage. She realised what she had seen from the air had been a series of buildings under interlocking roofs across the pathways.
"So this is where you live?" she asked the obvious question, walking into the large open room of his tree house cabin.
"When I come home, yes," he said softly, watching her as she looked around.
"And the other tree houses?" she asked, tilting her head as she looked at him.
"The other ones on this side of the great room belong to my sisters," he explained. "On the other side there are guest houses, and one my Uncle's still use from time to time."
"Do your sisters live here too?" She asked. Carrie knew he had sisters, though there was little information about them as they seemed to be sheltered from publicity. She knew they were married and appeared to live in different parts of the world. Although after Jordan's revelations about the alternative surname of Mansfield she may have to look into that again.
"No, but we all come home a few times a year and hang out," Sinclair said casually, as if it was what every family did. "They're all married and have their own homes and families, so the place gets pretty full when we're all home."
"You just hang out with your family?" she asked confused. She had never just hung out with Robyn or her grandmother. There was always a lesson or an investigation or a job to be done. Even when Jordan had come to live with them she had been allowed to do some training with him, but hanging out or wasting time was never tolerated by Robyn.
"You know, having fun with each other and catching up. I think we could both use some down time," Sinclair said, pulling her against his body. "It'll be good to relax for a little while after all the travel. Don't look so worried; they aren't here right now," he chuckled. "The bedroom's upstairs," he led her up to the mezzanine level.
The tree house was unlike any of his other homes. Though all his homes were different, his other homes had an air of wealth and sophistication about them. This home felt lived in and cosy, despite the open plan and vast rooms of the main building. There seemed to be nowhere to hide, and the openness of the connected buildings and walkways, combined with Sinclair's unusual mood, made her feel uncomfortable. She needed to do something familiar and routine, so she took her bag from where it had been left on the floor and lifted to the bed and opened it.
"I made some room for you in the closet, and you can have this draw," Sinclair said, confused by her obvious anxiety. She had easily gone into each of his homes that they had visited and acted as if she belonged there as his girlfriend, for some reason the discovery that this was, in fact, his parents home had made her withdraw back into herself and become quiet and distant with him.
