But then she remembered.

Her white, embroidered cotton nightgown was borrowed, and there was a lock on the outside of her door. After marveling for a brief moment over her sound sleep under such frustrating conditions, she dragged back her covers and headed for the bathroom. She had no idea what the day would bring, and she wanted to be ready.

She showered, then discovered that somebody-she assumed it was Leila-had left a simple, cowl-neck dress of ice-blue silk on the freshly made bed. It had three-quarter-length sleeves, a wide, gauzy hood that could be pulled up as a head scarf, and it fell to just below her knees. Whoever it was had also left a pair of practical, low-heeled sandals that hugged Julia’s feet softly as she tested them on the carpeted floor.

Then she opened the French doors and walked onto the third-floor balcony, gazing at the stables and the sea beyond, giving herself the illusion of freedom.

A rap sounded on the door. She assumed it would be Leila or maybe breakfast, but she didn’t bother going back inside to answer it. People seemed to come and go as they pleased around here.

Sure enough, the door swung open without her help.

It was Leila, and she carried a silver tray of coffee, fruit and pastries. The scrolled tray was further decorated with a small bouquet of flowers, as if Julia cared about opulent hospitality.

Leila was followed by Harrison, looking stern and forbidding in a dark business suit. Julia had to admit the man would be considered handsome, even sexy by most. Not that she was into self-assured, self-absorbed powermongers.

Still, she gave herself a quick lecture on the dangers of falling for your captor-Stockholm syndrome-just in case he started looking good.

“Thank you,” she said to Leila, advancing back into the room as the woman set the tray down on a low table between the two armchairs and the love seat. It occurred to Julia that she should probably stand on principle and refuse to eat her jailer’s food. Part of her wanted to be that defiant, but another part urged her to be practical. A debate ping-ponged through her brain as Leila let herself out of the room.