"And you still have not had enough practice removing my clothes, I see." Eowyn's smirk is audible in her voice. Now that he is shirtless, her hands are inclined to be distracted and wander along his back and shoulders, heavily muscled--an archer's strength is concentrated there, and she has found a particular love for Faramir's back. She pauses and leans forward to kiss him on his collarbone.

The heaviest layer of her own wedding dress is already removed, and what remains is a long linen shift and a shorter silken one. "I will have to ensure that you have many, many opportunities to learn this skill. At least once a day." Once a night, more likely, she realizes with another thrill of awareness.