"Am I wicked because I feel this way?" Greta asked.

"No," Hart assured her. He folded his arms around her firm, young body and pressed his mouth against hers. He felt her tremble and his heart began to pound in wild response.

"I love you, Doc," she whispered. "I'll make you a good wife, you'll see."

Hart's face became bitter. This should have been a honeymoon - a real honeymoon.

Instead they were fugitives hiding from cops who thought he was a killer - and from a killer who knew he wasn't.

They were on the run - but time was running out on them.