“Shall we go?” asked Eowyn.

To her surprise, Legolas’ only response was to part the skirts of his robe.

“It is tempting, Lassui,” said Eowyn, “but our guests are already waiting.”

Legolas grinned. “My under-robe is twisted, melmenya.” He grasped the fine silken fabric and—inadvertently giving Eowyn ample opportunity to admire the way his satin leggings fitted his very muscular thighs—he pulled the garment straight. “Ready.”

“Good,” said Eowyn (sounding a trifle breathless).

…

Later

Quickly, she peeled off his heavy brocade robe, his fine under-robe, and his sleeveless shirt, leaving him standing, bare-chested, in tight silver leggings and boots.

“Make love to me, Lassui,” she whispered.