Yorkshire Narrator



A Romantic Novel

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)


British (England - Yorkshire & Humber)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
honey could not even think. At first. The feel of Mr Black strong hand holding her waist firmly burning her through the fabric is if she wore nothing at all. Why did he affect her in this way? Or was it just the dance? The waltz was considered dangerous not for the immorality of it, but for the swift turns. So injuries in a delicate woman's constitution. But she began to think it was dangerous, more for the closeness of man and woman together, especially when that man was so desperately attractive, his voice so low and masculine, his height and breath blocking everything and everyone from her vision. They were alone on the floor at first, But soon some young people, encouraged by the example of their elders, stepped out on the floor and tried it, whirling joyfully in great sweeping motions across the polished hardwood. But she felt totally alone as she stole a glance at her partner to find Mr Black gays in steadily down at her. How dare he asked to call her by her first name. That must have been so Gordon's doing for he persisted in calling her honey when they were dancing and He always made it sound like a lover's in Damon rather than the name. But if this man called her honey in that way, it would be her undoing, she feared. And yet how ridiculous that Waas. This man was just amusing himself at a rustic ball while he visited his friend for a few days. He would soon become bored and move on back to London back to his natural milieu, which was certainly the ball rooms and bedrooms of London's elite. What a shocking thought. What had brought that into her mind about bedrooms? You are blushing, he said. She looked back up into his eyes. They were familiar, almost in their deep blue color, and she was reminded of a longer goal pair of blue eyes that had scorched her across a ballroom. But she had never formed an impression of the man to whom those eyes belonged. She had no time before a dance partner swept her away. She did know that they were set in a pale face, though, on Mr Black was Bruns toe a toner golden color. Tell me what made you blush, he whispered, holding her gaze. It is nothing, just a wave of thought. I would give much to know what that way would thought. Waas. I would give more if it had to do with me. Mr Black Honey whispered. You must not. You shouldn't. Her pulse hammered and she became conscious of every point of contact between them, his hand on her waist, her hand in his her other hand on his shoulder, the muscles flexing and knotting as he directed her through the sweeping steps.